


Trials and Tribulations

by Applesandbannas747



Series: Stuck With You [3]
Category: Fence (Comics)
Genre: I suggest you read all previous works in this series for best understanding of this AU, M/M, Soulmate AU, but if you're not concerned about that then neither am I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applesandbannas747/pseuds/Applesandbannas747
Summary: Eugene Labao knows a lot of people with a lot of different feelings on soulmates. Before now, he was never all that concerned about the whole thing. Before now, he'd never considered that he might find his own soulmate in the most inconvenient way possible. But, now that hehas, Eugene doesn’t feel much like he’s got himself a soulmate, he feels more like he’s just been saddled with endless trials in the form of a demanding blond boy.
Relationships: Eugene Labao/Jesse Coste
Series: Stuck With You [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593739
Comments: 134
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I must have a thing for Eugesse soulmate AUs in particular because I actually started writing _this_ fic first before realizing that I knew how all the others got together too and, thus, an entire fucking series was born from it and this one actually happened 3rd in the line up lmao

Eugene would turn eighteen before he met his soulmate. He wasn’t overly concerned with it, truth be told. Some people put a lot of stock in the whole thing; some, like Bobby—the newest member of the Kings Row fencing team—were crazy about the finding. The moment of souls latching and hearts knowing for sure who they were destined to belong to. He found it romantic. Eugene didn’t have any particular feelings about romance, but now that he’d found his match, Bobby was obsessed with everyone else's _moments._

Other people, like Seiji—the talented but sullen fencer on Eugene’s team—were just as obsessed as people like Bobby even though they liked to pretend they weren’t. Seiji was obsessed with _not_ finding his match. The boy refused to let anyone touch his bare skin. He was more diligent about it than anyone Eugene had ever met—and he’d met some hella conservative people. Eugene genuinely didn’t care about all that and was free and careless with his touches, which he knew disturbed Seiji greatly.

Still others, like Aiden—frivolous but skilled, he’d been on the team every year Eugene had been at Kings Row until now, having graduated last year—were obsessed with the searching. Aiden had always been deliberate with his physicality, trying, ostensibly, to find his soulmate.

Eugene wasn’t concerned with soulmates in any of these ways. In any way at all. So he wasn’t concerned about finding his match. Didn’t mind or worry that he hadn’t found them yet. He was neither apprehensive nor excited at the prospect of finding his soul’s bond. it would happen in its time and that was fine by him, he didn’t have time to let it rule his life.

“You guys ready to go out there and do this thing?” Eugene asked, regarding his team. They were a great bunch and each of his teammates had worked hard for this. Their first match. Eugene’s last match—and day—of his seventeenth year of life. It felt bigger than other matches. It was his senior year. _Every_ match would feel bigger and more important than any had before.

Eugene had every faith in his team but he had to admit that every odd was stacked against them here. Nick and Seiji were strong fencers, Nick especially had improved a lot since last year. Bobby had come far too, his confidence had built up a lot during their rigorous training. And Seiji was brilliant, as always. But things started falling apart when Nick and Seiji got into it with each other. Kings Row needed both of them on its team but they hadn’t figured out how to work together and refused all help Coach, Harvard, and now, Eugene had tried to offer them.

It had cost them the state championship last year. Mostly they managed to tolerate each other reasonably well. Until tension arose. And a huge point of tension between them? Jesse Coste. And the team they were up against today? Exton, the very team Jesse Coste captained.

It was their bad luck to be fencing the team most likely to be their downfall—for a multitude of reasons—for their first match. They all knew it, too.

It was early enough in the season that a loss here could be recovered from. But it would still do its damage, not least in morale. Starting off the season with a loss was bad luck.

They’d already talked strategy, already gone through pep talks and motivational mumbo-jumbo. All that was left was to go out there and fence. His team all nodded to him. To each other. They were ready.

Eugene led his team into Exton’s salle to the familiar chatter of a crowd waiting to be entertained.

Jesse Coste stood tall at the head of the Exton team, looking so smug you’d think he’d already won. At his back, Eugene could feel rage seething off of Seiji, could feel Nick’s response to it, like some off-brand jealousy. Eugene didn’t let any of it affect him.

Squaring his shoulders, Eugene went to greet the opposing captain, carelessly proffering his hand for a comradely shake. Jesse Coste looked down at his hand with disdain, and Eugene realized too late that it was ungloved.

Sometimes Eugene’s blasé attitude toward touch got him into trouble. Offering bare skin was an intimate gesture. But offering it to a stranger—particularly in this context, which was already competitive—was something of a challenge. An “ _I don’t think there’s a chance in hell we’ll bond, so it doesn’t matter if we touch.”_ Jesse, unwilling to back down from the challenge and admit that he thought Eugene could possibly be his soulmate, took off his glove before grasping Eugene’s bare left hand in his.

“Hey, good luck,” Eugene offered with a firm shake.

“Save it for yourself,” Jesse said snidely. “ I don’t need luck, least of all _yours_.”

Eugene shrugged. “Be that way, I take it back. No luck for you.”

Jesse didn’t appreciate that, it was obvious in the skin pulled tight around his eyes. Eugene thought it was kind of funny and after a laugh only Jesse could hear, he retracted his hand.

Jesse’s came with it.

“Dude,” he said, frowning. “Let go. I’ll give you my luck back if you want it so bad, no need to play games.”

Jesse’s face was shifting from egotistical arrogance to a mask of horror. He yanked at his hand but Eugene’s followed. Eugene had let go. He’d told his hand to let go.

“Funny joke, asshole,” Jesse whispered fiercely, teeth clenched. “You’ve had your laugh, now _let go.”_

“Do you see me laughing?” Eugene asked, once again trying to take back possession of his left hand. It was no good. For the next twenty-four hours, it belonged to Jesse basically as much as it did to him.

Eugene had never been concerned with soulmates, but right now, he was pretty fucking concerned with the whole thing. It was hard not to be concerned with soulmates when you’d just found yours. Especially when you were meant to be fencing them and there was a whole crowd—and two whole teams—waiting for you to step away from each other and start the competition.

 _Why,_ Eugene thought, _does it have to be such a huge pain in the ass?_

_Why does it have to be Jesse fucking Coste?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh shit I remember now what I meant to say in the notes of chapter one lmao whoops. so folks. listen. we're getting new canon content soon. Which is awesome and I'm super fucking pumped, as I'm sure we all are XD However, I'm impatient, lazy, and stupid, which puts us into our current predicament. Because I couldn't stand waiting until we got more canon input about Jesse's (and, let's be real, Eugene's) actual personality to write about them, I may or may not have made bad life choices and written 3 new Eugesse fics (this one included), and I can't be bothered to rewrite any of them to fit more closely with whatever these two end up being when volume 4 comes out so likeeeee just be aware of that. If it's incredibly, horribly, irredeemably out of character in the new context then that's just the way it's gonna have to be until I write new stuff that takes that context into account

Jesse flapped his hand around as if Eugene were some gross and mysterious substance he’d accidentally touched and thought could be shaken off. He looked ridiculous in his panic.

Eugene had already moved through the five stages of grief, had already resigned himself to his fate and was ready to do what he always did—find the humor in the situation. He’d found that, as a general rule, the shittier the situation, the funnier it could be if you looked for the humor in it. Eugene didn’t have to look hard at all to find the humor today.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” Eugene grinned as the truth of it fought its way onto Jesse’s frantic face. Then it hardened into angry contempt.

“Like hell I am,” he hissed.

“Whatever,” Eugene shrugged. “If you can figure out how to let go, tell me. I’d much rather be fencing you than holding your hand.”

Jesse’s eyes darted around the room and the crowd that was starting to burble restlessly about the holdup. Had he only just remembered where they were?

Too long had passed for their handshake to be anything but uncomfortable…or something _more._ The director was coming their way, looking impatient until his gaze fell on their hands. His brow creased in a suspicious frown.

“Okay, break it up, boys.”

“Can’t,” Eugene said bluntly, shaking his hand around to show how it jerked around a very displeased Jesse Coste’s with it. “Soulstuck.”

To test the claim, the director tried to peel Eugene’s fingers off of Jesse’s hand.

“Get you hands off my student.”

Eugene would recognize that low, warning growl anywhere. It had come from his coach and it meant you were in major danger.

The director dropped Eugene’s—and, by association, Jesse’s—hand. Williams planted herself between them and him, her hand falling on Eugene’s shoulder.

“What’s going on here?” She asked him calmly.

“Got stuck,” Eugene said again. Then, because he knew Williams would ask for clarification just to be sure, “ _Soul_ stuck. Looks like I found my soulmate.”

Coach Williams smiled, patted Eugene’s shoulder. “Congratulations, Captain. But did you have to pick such a damn inconvenient time to find him?”

“Just for you, Coach,” Eugene told her. “It’s my life’s ambition to make _your_ life as difficult as possible.”

“I’ve noticed.” Then, having confirmed what she’d already known when she came over, she spun on the director. When she spoke again, all the genial humor she’d had with Eugene was gone. “I take it my captain here told you of the situation.”

“I—yes, but—,”

“And you thought it appropriate to test his bond for yourself?”

“It might have been a prank,” the man said, glaring briefly at Eugene and Jesse. More so Eugene, he couldn’t help but notice. “And it’s my job to keep things here running smoothly.”

“Eugene’s not a liar,” Williams said icily. Eugene thought it was real good of her, saying that. He had been known to pull a prank or two when the mood struck. “But,” she continued, “regardless of your inaccurate and offensive misjudgment of these boys, how _dare_ you test their bond in such a way? How dare you question such a matter at all, but what possessed you to invade their soulbond and put your grubby hands all over it? Such an invasive offense—you should know better.”

The director was cowering under Williams’ ire now. And she wasn’t done yet. She was fully mad— _actually_ and legitimately mad. It kind of warmed Eugene’s heart that she was going into full devil mode on his behalf. She continued to berate the director, and Exton’s coach came over to join in the fun as well. Eugene knew Williams didn’t typically get along with her but today they were a united—and righteous—front.

Jesse rotated their hands, tipping them back and forth again and again, frowning down at them like he expected to find some stain spreading from Eugene’s skin onto his.

“That _was_ incredibly distasteful, wasn’t it?” Jesse asked. Perhaps the stain he was looking for wasn’t from Eugene. Since all the adults were too busy talking to hear him, Jesse must have been talking to Eugene.

“Hella rude,” Eugene agreed. It was something of a taboo to question soulbonds; trying to break them physically was particularly offensive. It was invasive and even Eugene had to admit he’d found the touch from the director uncomfortable. It hadn’t felt at all like a normal touch, even one that hadn’t been wanted. It had felt wrong. Kind of gross. Curiously, Eugene touched his right hand to his left, but it felt no different from usual. Then he brushed fingers onto the sliver of pale wrist Jesse’s fencing jacket left exposed. Jesse startled. “That feel alright?” Eugene asked, a little late.

Jesse nodded. “Not at all like when _he_ did it.” Jesse had caught on to Eugene’s train of thought and answered the question he’d really been asking.

“Strange.”

“Much stranger than I expected.”

“Fucking whack. That’s what this is. Bad timing too.”

“Your fault.”

“Joint effort.”

“If you’d just given me your covered right hand like any normal person,” Jesse harrumphed.

“You could have kept your glove on,” Eugene pointed out. “And the point of soulmates is to find them, yeah? So it’s counterproductive to be mad at me for this when it was literally inevitable.”

“I don’t want you.”

“Yeah,” Eugene snorted. “And I’ve been pining after a pompous blond asshole my whole life. If I got to pick, trust me, I wouldn’t have picked you either. But here we are.”

“Our schedule will be all thrown off now,” Jesse glared. “If you think this stall tactic will save you from defeat, you’re wrong.”

“Stall tactic? You think I discovered a way to predict soulmates and intentionally touched you today to buy my team more time?” Eugene asked incredulously, then considered it. “Hey, actually, that’s kinda flattering that you think I’m that clever.”

“I wasn’t saying that.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Eugene, Jesse,” Williams said, both of them snapping to attention smartly at her serious voice, and Jesse didn’t even know her. Eugene smirked at that. “We’re postponing the match. Putting reserves in for both captains won’t do, especially with all this excitement. You’ll come back to Kings Row—,”

“Actually, Sally,” Jesse’s coach cut in neatly, “I’d rather have them here at Exton if it’s all the same to you.”

“It’s not,” Williams said, narrow-eyed. “That’s why I specified they’d be coming to Kings Row, I thought that was obvious.”

“I don’t want to go to Kings Row,” Jesse declared. Eugene thought he sounded like a petulant child but his coach smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder the way Williams had earlier for Eugene. “I bet the dorms are awful there, Kings Row’s quality is miles below Exton’s in every way I’ve seen and I’m sure the dorms aren’t the exception.”

“Eugene’s roommate moved to California this year,” Williams said sweetly. “It was such a last-minute thing that I haven’t gotten around to shuffling up roommates, meaning Eugene’s room is ideal for this situation.”

“You think leaving two soulbound teenagers together in their own room is a good idea?” Jesse’s coach asked in a superior way, thinking she’d delivered a checkmate.

“Yes. Soulbinds are a deeply personal time in anyone’s life and shouldn’t be invaded on more than can be avoided. And don’t you think they’ve already been scrutinized quite enough? Do they really need to have an onlooker to their bond all night too? Really, Alessandra, that’s just cruel.”

Eugene had to agree he’d rather not have a third person around for whatever situation he and Jesse were forced into tonight. He could see that Jesse agreed. Alessandra must have seen it too because she ground her teeth and nodded to Williams.

“Kings Row, then,” she relented. “Jesse, do you want to contact your father about the off-campus stay or shall I?”

“I can,” Jesse told her.

Eugene barely had time to think _oh, my family will want to know too_ when they materialized around him. They must have pushed their way onto the floor, right into the middle of things, all six of them. Eugene hadn’t exactly daydreamed whole fantasies about finding his soulmate the way Bobby had back in freshman year, but he hadn’t planned on introducing the crew to his soulmate before he’d even met the—in this case—guy properly himself. Much less while he was still glued on to him. Coach was right, it felt weird to have so many people eyeing up his hand, still clutched tight in Jesse’s. But this was his family, so it didn’t feel so wrong, and he liked how they gathered around and all but built an unintentional wall between him and Jesse and the swarm of eyes interested in golden boy _Jesse Coste’s_ soulmate situation.

“Well,” Eugene said to his family, holding up his occupied hand. “The fun news is that I found my soulmate. The less fun news is that I seem to have terrible taste.”

Jesse yanked down their hands with a glare as Eugene and all three of his brothers laughed. Even Dad gave a chuckle. Mom gave him a disapproving look. And Luna, interested in one of Eugene’s fencing events for the first time ever, smiled a sly smirk that Mom always swore she’d learned from her big brother.

“What are you talking about, Gene? He’s definitely pretty enough to be your type. Is he useless too?”

“I’m putting a knuckle rub on your tab for later when I can deliver it,” Eugene warned her.

Jesse was at a loss, a sight which Eugene found highly amusing.

“This is Jesse,” Eugene said helpfully, since Jesse didn’t introduce himself. But Eugene could tell that Jesse thought it was a rather lackluster introduction when Eugene didn’t expand on the name—the title—one bit before moving right along. “And Jesse, this is the crew. Oldest to youngest we’ve got Luna—she’s a delight, life of the party, you’ll love her—,” Luna stuck her tongue out at Eugene’s pointed finger, “then there’s Junior, Marcus, and Fritz. And my parents, Kit and Elizabeth,” Eugene finished.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Jesse said, manners taking over and making him passably pleasant.

“We all look forward to getting to know you,” Mom said warmly. “You should come to Eugene’s birthday celebration, we’d love to have you.”

But then Coach was there, ushering them away.

“Your mom seems nice,” Jesse said as he accepted his fencing bag from his coach.

“She is,” Eugene agreed, not really surprised Jesse liked her. Everyone loved Mom. “The nicest.”

“I just don’t understand where she went wrong to end up with you.”

“Hey, that wasn’t half bad, predictable but not terrible. I can work with this if you’ve got a sense of humor.”

Coach handed Eugene his own bag, all packed up and ready to go. They left the gym and climbed onto the bus. Eugene’s team was already there, looking politely disinterested. It didn’t last long.

“That’s the third Kings Row pair I’ve met now,” Nick said. “And isn’t it supposed to be good luck to meet your soulmate before you’re eighteen?”

“An old wives’ tale,” Bobby said, but they all knew it was one he bought into for the romance.

“I’m not a Kings Row student,” Jesse snapped. “So we aren’t a Kings Row pair. God, what do you all do to find your soulmates so early, anyway? Is there some sort of steroid?”

Bobby took up answering with a bubbly grace, gushing about how luck and love had just been abundant at their school. He chalked it up to Tanner and Kally bringing their luck with them when they started at Kings Row, and then dove into the story of their bond, which had grown into something of a legend at the school. But Eugene wasn’t listening all the way. He saw Seiji’s disdaining look at his soulmate and could feel trouble brewing as Jesse’s attention kept sliding back to Seiji. Soon, Nick would pick up on their little glaring match and he’d get jealous that Seiji wasn’t glaring at _him_ instead and it would turn into a whole thing.

“I think Jesse and I are going to head to the back,” Eugene said when Bobby finished telling the story of his and Dante’s bond.

“Use protection,” Nick called. Eugene shoved his head forward as he pulled Jesse past them all and to the back of the bus, away from Seiji and hopefully away from trouble.

Eugene had his left arm crossed over his chest, holding Jesse’s hand against his pec, but he still had to walk a bit sideways or Jesse complained that his wrist was getting bent uncomfortably.

“It’s my fencing hand,” Jesse said when Eugene scoffed at his complaints. “I need to keep it in best condition.”

“If you’re so worried, why don’t we switch? Your wrist would be safe against your chest.”

“You wish. No, I won’t be walking around with my arm wrapped around myself like some pathetic loser.”

They had to sit on the bench facing each other and Jesse scooted them backward until his back was against the wall.

“This is terrible,” he said sulkily. “All this twisting around. You should have offered your gloved hand.”

“Once again, golden boy, you should have kept your glove on,” Eugene countered. He could tell this argument would haunt him for the rest of his life and he was already tired of it.

“I couldn’t and you know it.”

“I didn’t mean it as a challenge. I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“You should have been,” Jesse barked fiercely, then took a breath to regain his slipping composure. “A handshake at a fencing match is _not_ how I wanted to meet my soulmate. You should have planned it better.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, did you seriously just say I should have put thought into my first touch with you?”

“Of course.”

“Look, bud, I didn’t know you were my soulmate, I wasn’t about to plan some picnic and take your hand all tenderly or whatever just to touch you.”

“You should have put more thought into it. First touches should always mean something. Just in case. But _you_ made my only first touch that matters the only one that wasn’t special at all.”

“Gross, you’re a romantic.”

“Gross, you’re a touch slut.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was a relief to be back at school. The bus situation hadn’t been the most comfortable. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Jesse weren’t such a brat. He’d refused to work with Eugene at all, only bothering to try and make his own ride as cozy as possible.

“My arm’s sore,” Jesse complained. The trek to Castello Dormitory wasn’t nearly long enough for his arm to have gotten sore from just holding it up. And he wasn’t even supporting his arm alone—Eugene was holding it up more than he was.

“Do you just enjoy being difficult?” Eugene asked. “Genuinely, I’m curious. This,” Eugene tweaked the hand he held, “is your fencing arm. How is _this_ making it sore? You can’t be as weak as you’re acting, can you?”

Jesse didn’t seem to like that at all. He jerked their arms down hard, catching Eugene enough by surprise that the movement had his hand falling away from his shoulder to reposition by his hip where Jesse evidently wanted it.

“I’m not weak. And I’m not sore right _now._ But I will be if you make me walk around like that for twenty-four hours, you beast.”

“So it was a preemptive complaint?”

“A preemptive action to avoid future strain on my arm. If you’d just been a gentleman and offered to reposition your arm, everything would have been taken care of.”

“I don’t think I have to be a gentleman if you’re not going to be one.”

“You’re not much of a knight in shining armor, are you?”

“And you’re the worst Prince Charming I’ve ever met.”

Jesse huffed and Eugene mimicked it with a mocking twist and then they walked in silence.

“This is me,” Eugene said when they got to his room, unlocking the door and letting them in. Jesse scrutinized the room and gave a little sniff of disdain. There was no way _this_ boy could be Eugene’s soulmate, was there? He couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life dealing with this.

“Keep quiet, won’t you,” Jesse asked, pulling out his phone and unlocking it with ease enough for his non-dominant hand. “I need to call my dad.”

“Right.” Eugene did remember Alessandra saying that. And if Robert had been at the match, he’d have come to check out the kerfuffle like Eugene’s family. “No obscene language or lewd noises—,”

“I’m serious, if you can’t behave yourself while I’m on the phone with Dad, I’m returning you to the soulmate factory and demanding a redo or, at the very least, a refund.”

So Jesse cared a lot about his dad’s opinion. No surprises there. Eugene listened in to Jesse’s string of conversation.

“Hi Dad,” he started. “No, actually…Yeah, it would have been, but we didn’t even get to the match…No, nothing like that, just, uh, soulmate stuff…Mine. Me. I’m in the middle of my bind. Or, only an hour into it, really…Yeah…Right here…No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Jesse paused, looking a little flustered as he glanced askance at Eugene. “You can meet him later. I meant to tell you before now, but I did expect it to be a boy…Not quite, but close. Um, he’s the captain of the other team…Yes, Dad, Kings Row’s captain…Eugene Labao…Yes, Dad, but _later._ I’m tired…Okay, love you, bye.”

Jesse hung up the phone, determinedly not looking at Eugene, which was hard because their most comfortable option was standing face to face so Jesse was forced to conspicuously look around the room to avoid looking straight ahead.

“Sounds like that went well,” Eugene observed, not sure what Jesse’s embarrassment was about. He’d met Eugene’s entire family, hadn’t he? Listening in on half a phone call with Jesse’s dad made them even.

“Of course it went well,” Jesse dismissed.

“You could have let him talk to me, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Could you hear him?”

“No need to get all accusatory there, bud. I just have enough common sense to piece things together. I’m great with parents, I promise I’d have made a great first impression.”

“When the time comes, you’d better. But I don’t want to think about that right now. Anyway, it shouldn’t be too hard. Dad loves Kings Row, you’ve already got a point in your favor.”

“Hell yeah, Kings Row rules. Bet he’s not sad the match is postponed.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Doesn’t he want to come see it? I assumed he had some important grown-up type business to attend to if he was missing his son fence against his old high school.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jesse admitted grudgingly. “Dad was disappointed when things lined up so he couldn’t make it…I still can’t believe you’ve fucked up the whole season for me like this—if losing your first match is bad luck, what kind of luck does this,” a shake of their hands that, hilariously, mimicked the handshake that had gotten them stuck in the first place, “bring?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

There wasn’t anything more to say. Not much to do either. Eugene didn’t often find situations awkward, but this one was. Jesse had an intense air of dissatisfaction about him, which was funny right up until it was annoying. It was annoying now. Eugene could just tell from a look at his face that Jesse was going to make every minute of their promised one thousand, four hundred, and forty together as difficult as possible.

There was no point in just standing here. Eugene pulled Jesse to his bed and sat down, deftly untying the laces of his fencing sneakers and discarding them to the floor. Jesse debated a moment before joining Eugene, scooting until his back was against the wall.

“Hand me the pillow,” he requested. It was more of a demand, really. Eugene didn’t particularly want the pillow but it was his pillow and Jesse hadn’t even bothered with a please, so he picked it up and stuffed it behind his own back instead of passing it on to Jesse.

“Sorry, bud, I’ve just got the one.”

“You’re a neanderthal, I can tell. Just my luck to be stuck with you. Fine, _please_ can I have it?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Eugene suggested to try and ruffle Jesse more. Jesse huffed but held out his hand in an acceptance of the challenge.

“Best out of three,” he declared when his scissors lost to Eugene’s rock.

“Sure.”

They went again. Rock to rock. Then again. Jesse went scissors. Eugene stayed rock.

“I couldn’t have made it easier for you, bro,” Eugene laughed at Jesse’s glower. It was a mind game, obviously, but instead of delivering that accusation, Jesse fisted his right hand and let his head fall back against the wall dramatically.

“You had an unfair advantage since you’ve still got your dominant hand and I don’t. It’s not fair.”

“Dexterity has nothing to do with winning roshambo,” Eugene said with a poke to Jesse’s stomach. His hand got slapped away viciously

“This is awful!” Jesse shouted, moving on to shove at Eugene like he could actually make him go as far away as he wanted. Eugene thought he was blowing losing a game of rock, paper, scissors way out of proportion but, as he peered more closely at Jesse’s face, he saw the stress lines there. He thought he got it. Jesse was a threshold person and he’d met his for the day. Stressful, public bonding—tested right off the bat by a rando—followed by leaving all his friends to go to a school that wasn’t his and sit in a room he didn’t belong in. Eugene still didn’t think any of it was that bad but it had clearly piled up on Jesse.

Silently, he pulled out his pillow from behind him and handed it to Jesse. Jesse didn’t lean against it as Eugene had expected, only held it to his chest like some sort of stuffed animal.

“Only because you said please,” Eugene told him. “Your excuse about your bad hand losing the game for you is still bullshit.”

Jesse ignored this, pulling out his phone again. There really wasn’t much else to do and Eugene had to admit that Jesse had to right idea. They sat for ages in perfect silence, the picture of stereotypical millennials. Even though they weren’t technically millennials; old geezers categorized all young people on their phones the same way.

“Do you have a cord?” Jesse asked, his first words in over an hour. Eugene glanced at his own phone’s battery.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got the one and I’m gonna need it soon.”

“I asked first.”

“Do you want to rock, paper, scissors for it?”

“Don’t you have other stuff you can do? I should have made us stop by my dorm so I could get my computer and a change of clothes and a toothbrush or _anything—,”_

“Should have thought of that before getting on the bus, dipshit. And you don’t need a change of clothes, remember?” But Eugene reached over to the nightstand he’d smuggled in this year, grabbing his computer and the phone cord next to it.

“Plug it in for me?” Jesse asked instead of taking the offered cord. “I can’t do it well one-handed and you stole my good hand.”

“You’re needier than Fritz.”

Eugene plugged the cord in as Jesse held his phone, going right back to scrolling when it buzzed to signal it was charging.

“That’s the littlest one?” Jesse asked absently. He didn’t look up so Eugene took a second to pick up on the fact that Jesse wasn’t just talking to himself.

“Yeah. Not all that little anymore,” Eugene mused. “He’s turning nine this year.”

“A good age,” Jesse hummed distractedly.

“Yeah?” Eugene asked, sure that Jesse had some reason to think that, one involving his success in fencing, no doubt. But Jesse was fully checked out of conversation now and didn’t answer. Eugene didn’t care enough to draw him back in so he opened his computer, popped in his earbuds, and turned on a show. He’d been meaning to watch this one for ages but hadn’t ever found the time for it. Now that he was stuck doing nothing with a whiny boy attached to him, it seemed like a good time to dive in.

Jesse didn’t agree. Eugene kept laughing—he was a strong believer in laughing without restraint if something was funny but he could tell already that he and Jesse would have problems if they went on movie dates together. The exasperated and judgmental looks he was getting just sitting here in the privacy of his own room could only promise more judgment and exasperation for laughing loudly in a theatre. But he’d gotten the phone charger so he couldn’t complain. Or, actually, Eugene was sure he _could_ complain and was weirdly impressed that he wasn’t in the process of complaining right now. It seemed to be a favorite pastime of his.

“Are those…giant flying shrimp?” Jesse asked on about his hundredth peer over at Eugene and his computer.

“Yup.” Eugene popped an earbud out to answer.

“Why?”

“Well, because—you know what? It’s a long story. Here.” Eugene unplugged his earbuds altogether and dragged the episode back to the start.

“I never said I wanted to watch,” Jesse protested. But he watched anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

They made it through four episodes, but Eugene paused the fifth before it started, prompting a sound of protest from Jesse.

“The dining hall will be open for dinner now,” Eugene said. “You hungry?”

“No,” Jesse answered with a shake of his head, reaching his right hand over to hit the space bar and play the show again. He was closer than he had been an hour ago. Eugene wondered if Jesse had noticed. Probably not.

“Let me know when you want to grab some food.”

“Shush, I’m trying to watch.”

But Jesse shifted around endlessly the entire episode so Eugene shut the computer when it was done.

“What’s got you dancing like you’ve got squirrels in your pants?”

“Squirrels in my…? What?”

_“Phineas And Ferb,_ dude.”

“Isn’t that a cartoon?”

“Put the judgment away and answer my question.”

“Oh, right, little siblings,” Jesse said in answer to his own implied question. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

“With what?”

“In your fencing jacket? I’m overheating and it’s not the comfiest loungewear, is it?”

“It’s not ideal,” Eugene agreed. “If you unzipped yours, I bet it’d help.”

Eugene had his hanging all the way open and he’d pulled off his plastron ages ago. Jesse, of course, couldn’t get his plastron off any more than he could get the jacket off.

“It looks stupid zipped down so far,” Jesse grouched. Eugene looked him over, noticing for the first time that the open triangle of visible underlayers might have been the product of a hand carefully and deliberately folding open the jacket over it. Eugene reached over and caught hold of the zipper, yanking it down almost to the end of its track. “Hey!”

“Who’s gonna see you in here?” Eugene asked. “Theoretically, I’m doomed to like you even if you look stupid and act like a brat and since you’re not even worried about the latter, I don’t see why you’re worrying about the former.”

Jesse flushed in indignation. “I didn’t mean I was—I don’t care what you think of me.” To prove his point—or, possibly, because he’d been overheating—Jesse left his jacket unzipped. But he kept fidgeting and it wasn’t long before he asked his next question. “Do you have scissors?”

“Scissors?” Eugene had a bad feeling about that question.

“Yes. Scissors.”

“What do you need scissors for?” Eugene had to ask. He already knew. Of course he already knew. But he had to ask.

“What do you think I need them for? I want to cut off my jacket. I’m _not_ sleeping in this.”

“Dude, you can’t just wreck your jacket like that.”

“Sure I can. I’ll just get a new one.”

_“I’ll just get a new one,”_ Eugene mimicked. “How wasteful are you? Jesus.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Sleeping in your jacket for one night is a way smaller deal than buying a new one.”

“They’re not that expensive.”

To Jesse, maybe throwing money away like that for a bit of extra comfort didn’t seem like a big deal but, to Eugene, it seemed pretty stupid.

“I’m not sleeping in this,” Jesse repeated. Eugene examined his face, set stubbornly in resolve. It occurred to Eugene too late that his dismissal of Jesse’s ridiculous plan had only made him dig his heels in. He tried a different method.

“Fine, it’s your shit to throw away. But we should go get dinner first. In case you cut off more layers than you bargained for.”

“I won’t. And I’m not hungry.”

“What if I’m hungry?” Eugene challenged.

“Then you’ll deal with it because I don’t want to go to your wretched school’s cafeteria and eat surrounded by—,”

“Plebeians?” Eugene guessed with a roll of eyes. “You pretentious dickwart.”

“Did you just call me a...a _dick wart?”_

“Yeah. Wanna know why? Because you’re acting like a dickwart.”

“Take that back! I am not.”

“You totally are. Won’t go eat with the peasants, can’t buck up and deal with a couple hours wearing your jacket—,”

“It’s more than a couple hours,” Jesse snapped, red-faced. “Where are your scissors? I want this off right now.”

“Ugh, fine. Fine.” Eugene threw his hand up in the air in surrender, then grabbed his nearly-dead phone.

“That doesn’t look like a pair of scissors.”

“Just chill a minute, I’ve got a friend who’s into sewing, he’ll have better scissors for this. I’m texting him now. He’s probably at dinner so it will be a bit, but—,”

“No, I want out of this jacket right now and if you don’t get me scissors this instant I’ll—I’ll—,”

“What? Scream bloody murder?”

“Maybe! Do you want to find out?”

“Why don’t we wait for a minute, watch some more—,”

“No.”

When Jesse stood and dragged Eugene half off the bed, it became clear he’d find the scissors himself if he had to turn every drawer in Eugene’s room. So he gave up and retrieved the single pair of scissors he kept around. They were in no way made for this sort of thing but Jesse sat back down on the bed, scissors clumsily jammed onto his fingers, and hacked away at his left sleeve. Not even bothering, Eugene noticed, to cut along the seam for any chance of salvageability.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you go on like that,” Eugene observed as Jesse gave a frustrated and strangled shout. The operation wasn’t going smoothly.

“Then you do it,” he snarled, thrusting the scissors at Eugene. Eugene had the good sense to lean out of the way.

“I’m not getting involved in this.”

“You’re the one that got me into this, you can get me out. Take some responsibility.”

Eugene eyed the scissors quavering in Jesse’s right hand and willed himself to have patience for this demonic brat. He took the scissors. Jesse really _would_ hurt someone if Eugene let him keep on like he was. Jesse opened his mouth to protest when Eugene put the scissors down.

“Hold this,” Eugene said, tugging the cuff of Jesse’s jacket. “Tight.”

Jesse did, taking the fabric with his free hand and holding it taut. Then Eugene got to it, ignoring the jagged and minimal progress Jesse had made, cutting as best he could along the seam. It was slow work and, as Eugene slowly cut up the length of Jesse’s arm, Jesse calmed down. Still and quiet again, his chest moving in steady breaths.

“Arm up,” Eugene instructed and Jesse obeyed.

It was awkward work with Eugene’s arm also tugged up with Jesse’s as his other hand manned the scissors. He tested the scissors' capability against the double layer, slipping the upper blade under the short sleeve of Jesse’s plastron. Jesse shivered at the close contact of metal against his skin but he didn’t complain. Didn’t snap at Eugene to be careful. He would be anyway. Super careful. Since the scissors handled the extra thickness just fine, Eugene went ahead and kept going.

Jesse had his hand braced against his chest now, pressing the back of Eugene’s hand against his heartbeat. It seemed a little fast to Eugene. Probably from the slip of scissors against bare skin.

“Alright,” Eugene said, voice coming out softly. “You can put your arm down a little. And come hold your jacket by your hip, I’m going to cut from the bottom up for the rest.”

“Okay,” Jesse agreed, just as soft. His head had been facing the other direction as Eugene had cut from underarm to ribcage but now his words tickled across Eugene’s skin and hair. Damn, but they were close. It was impossible not to be in this kind of situation.

Eugene finished the rest pretty quickly, his hand aching like hell by the time he finally connected the cuts. Jesse breathed a sigh of relief, wasting no time in grabbing his spliced open jacket and casting it off him, plastron shelled inside. But that wasn’t all. Jesse’s simple white t-shirt tried to follow the rest of the set but got caught, then flopped back down, torn open across Jesse’s chest.

“Whoops,” Eugene said to a very exposed, very pink nipple right as his door burst open.


	5. Chapter 5

“Please tell me I’m not too late!” Bobby shouted, door slamming shut as dramatically as it had burst open. Jesse jerked so violently he almost pulled Eugene right into him, scissors still held open in Eugene’s fingers. “Oh!” Bobby squeaked, taking in the scene.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Jesse spluttered at once, flushing so hard even his pale chest was blushed pink.

“This is _exactly_ what it looks like,” Eugene said, shucking the scissors off on his nightstand.

“Oh, no,” Bobby said sadly to the mess of white on the floor. “Why couldn’t you have just waited for me?”

“I tried. I tried _so_ hard, Bobby,” Eugene said solemnly. “But the mean man bullied me into cutting off his clothes and I was helpless to stop it.”

“I did not—I didn’t mean for you to—this is _not_ what I wanted.”

“If only I’d seen your text sooner.” Bobby held up his sewing basket, pink and covered in cats playing with spools of thread. “I had a feeling you’d be trying to cut yourselves free since you were asking to borrow my good scissors.”

“Too late now,” Eugene said, gesturing at Jesse. “But thanks for trying to come to our rescue, Bobby, you’re the real MVP.”

“I’m _still_ coming to your rescue,” Bobby said, picking his way through Eugene’s room, carefully avoiding looking at Jesse. The pair of them were both a deep shade of red. “I can get you out of your jacket, Eugene.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m all good.”

“I promise I can put it back together good as new. I’ve got my seam-rippers. And I work magic with a sewing machine.”

“I know you do, but there’s no need for all that trouble.“

“I accepted that excuse from Dante over a blazer but this is a whole other level. _Plus_ I’ve got both my hands. So just hush and let me make your bind a little easier.”

“Yes, Mom,” Eugene relented with a laugh. It was pointless saying no, anyway. Bobby already had his seam-rippers out and was advancing on him hungrily. Bobby loved a good sewing project.

With Bobby’s expert hand and superior tools, the job was done in less than half the time it had taken to wrestle Jesse out of his jacket. Eugene met Jesse’s eyes over the top of Bobby’s space buns and raised an eyebrow.

_See?_ He mouthed. _Should have waited._

Jesse harrumphed and turned his cheek.

“Thanks a million, Bobby, I owe you,” Eugene said as Bobby collected his jacket neatly off him.

“Count it as your birthday present, Captain,” Bobby told him with a smile before leaving the room.

“You’re the best!” Eugene called after him. It really was nice to be in just his shirt and pants.

The minute the door closed, Jesse bolted off the bed again and slammed the lock down.

“Why’d you have your door open for anyone to just waltz in?” He demanded of Eugene.

“Because I like visitors,” Eugene shrugged, returning them both to his bed.

Jesse’s arm did a funny little maneuver after he sat down and Eugene realized it had been moving to fold across his chest before remembering it was tethered to Eugene. No questions why Jesse was trying to cross his arms.

“You look ridiculous,” Eugene informed him, darting a hand to tug a suspender strap down Jesse’s conspicuously bare shoulder. “There. Now it’s a look.”

Jesse gasped.

“You’re the worst! You cut off my shirt!”

“You made me.”

“I did _not_ make you cut open my shirt, you fucked that up all yourself.”

“Should have waited for Bobby,” Eugene agreed sagely. Jesse made a sort of keening sound, high pitched and frustrated.

“I hate you. Give me your shirt.”

“I’m sorry, you want the shirt off my back now? I mean, I picked up on you being demanding but that’s asking a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Not at all. It’s your fault about my shirt, it’s only right that you give me yours.”

“And how do you propose I do that?”

“Just take it off and slide it down your arm and I’ll wear it inside out. And maybe backward? Whatever, just do it.”

“No,” Eugene said incredulously. “I’m not giving you my shirt, you psycho.”

Jesse made another sound of frustration before launching an attack on Eugene, coming in so close he literally climbed right into Eugene’s lap.

“Give me that!” He snatched at Eugene’s shirt, trying to tug it over his head.

“No way, princess,” Eugene repeated, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and tugging it back into place. “I know we’re soulmates and all, but this is a little forward. I mean, we only just met.”

Jesse paused a moment to glance at Eugene’s most charming grin. Jesse’s eyes went a little wide, the unsure shifting of his weight—straddled over Eugene’s thighs—making Eugene think that Jesse had just become extremely aware of where he was and what he was doing, context be damned. He flushed as hard as he had when Bobby had walked in on them and yanked at Eugene’s shirt so hard that an unmistakable ripping sound had them both freezing moments later.

“Shit,” Eugene groaned.

“You should have just let go,” Jesse rebuked, but his grip was slack now. Probably, he didn’t want the shirt now that he’d ripped it. “I would have given you back your stupid shirt after the bind but now you’ve spoiled it.”

“Oh, I did that, huh?” Eugene asked, abandoning his grip on his poor shirt. “Let me show you what it looks like when _I_ tear a shirt.”

Jesse didn’t even know to try and get away. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to manage it before Eugene got a hold of his hung-open shirt and tore it the rest of the way open, the fabric yielding to him easily and with magnificently dramatic sound effects. Jesse screeched and shoved at Eugene but it was no use. Eugene already had the tattered shirt off of Jesse, the other strap of his suspenders disrupted as the shirt had been untucked, ripped open, and jerked off his arm.

Eugene raised his hand above his head, white fabric in his fist a sign of victory, not surrender.

“Revenge is sweet,” Eugene hooted. Jesse was spluttering but no comprehensible words were coming out. He looked a sight. A not altogether bad one, either, if Eugene was being honest. His blond hair had fallen in his eyes and his cheeks were still filled with color. And the fencing knickers didn’t look half bad over a bare chest. Karma got Eugene immediately for checking Jesse out.

“Now you’ve got to let me cut off your shirt,” Jesse said, finally regaining the ability to speak. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one. You’ve got to be half-naked too.”

“I don’t follow your logic.”

“You’re taking advantage,” Jesse accused, triumphant. “You cut my shirt and then you ripped it off me and now you’re gawking at me like a lecher.”

“The fuck are you calling a lecher?”

“Don’t try to deny it. I saw. And you were checking me out because you’ve gone and taken my shirt. That’s taking advantage.”

Shit.

“Fine. Alright. By all means, ruin my shirt even more.”

Jesse smiled brightly and tipped forward, leaning over Eugene to scrabble the scissors back onto his fingers. Eugene eyed his clumsy hand suspiciously as Jesse sat back down.

“Just try not to cut me with those things instead of the shirt, okay, champ?” Eugene really didn’t trust Jesse with those scissors in his hand. But he was sure Jesse would protest about fairness again if Eugene offered the logical solution and just took the scissors to cut off his shirt himself.

“I’ll be careful,” Jesse said impatiently. Eugene wasn’t sure about ‘careful,’ but Jesse was fast and managed to avoid doing any bodily harm to Eugene.

Eugene tugged off his shirt, leaving him with nothing but the straps of his suspenders. He hooked his available thumb in a strap and snapped it. The effect would have been better with both hands but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

“So,” he said, smiling rakishly, “now you can check me out and we’re even.”

“As if I’d want to,” Jesse sneered. But he was a lying liar, Eugene had already caught him looking. And he snuck another peek even as he said he had no interest. “Anyway, do you have pajama pants or sweats or something I could borrow?” Jesse unclipped his suspenders as he asked, flipping both straps over his shoulders to hang off the knickers freely. “If possible, I’d prefer not to sleep in these either…if you’ve got anything long enough to fit me.”

“If you’re making fun of my height, I’m not so much shorter than you that it should be a problem. If you’re trying to draw my attention to how long your legs are, I promise to admire them the next time you stand up.”

“Shut up and get me some pants,” Jesse said, using one of his allegedly long legs to nudge at Eugene until he stood.

For a laugh, Eugene caught the offending leg once he’d stood and gave a hearty tug. Jesse fell back and slid forward on the bed, which was funny right up until Eugene was pulled down on top of him from the off-kilter gravity of Jesse plummeting, Eugene’s arm still attached to his. Their faces were so close that Eugene could see as Jesse’s blue irises were swallowed in black, could see the couple strands of hair that had fallen across those eyes. For just a second, he forgot how annoying Jesse was and thought he really was pretty, even this close up.

“Ouch!” Jesse gasped. There was no way he wasn’t just winded, Eugene had managed to keep any hard bones from sinking into soft skin. Jesse pulled in his leg and Eugene realized he still had hold of the calf. He let go and Jesse harrumphed, but there wasn’t anywhere else for his leg to go so it stayed pressed against Eugene’s hip. Jesse’s hand curled over Eugene’s shoulder, trying to push him off. “Get off me! You planned this, didn’t you?”

“If I did, it was poor planning on my part because I’m sure this isn’t the result I was hoping for,” Eugene grumbled, remembering how annoying Jesse was as he blinked accusingly up at him. The long strands of hair that had been displaced from his bangs caught in his furiously fluttering eyelashes and Eugene instinctively brushed the hair aside before remembering himself and standing up, Jesse tugged back up into a sitting position as a result, eyes still full of accusation. “You’re going to have to get off your ass,” Eugene told him. “My dresser’s across the room.”

“Have I mentioned that I hate being stuck to someone?”

“Yeah, pretty sure you’ve mentioned you hate being stuck to me once or twice,” Eugene said with little concern as he pulled open the wardrobe and opened his pajama drawer.

“Yes, that too. You definitely make it worse. But being stuck to _anyone_ is awful. What’s the point of getting people to do things for you if you just get dragged along on the errand anyway?”

“Instead of replying to that by pointing out that you’re a brat again, I’m going to give you these pants. So shut up and change into them.”

Eugene pressed his favorite bright yellow sweats into Jesse’s chest. He wasn’t being generous sharing them; they were comfy and the kind that had some extra fabric gathered above the cuffs at the ankles. They ought to accommodate Jesse’s long legs.

Eugene pulled out his trusty Kings Row sweats for himself, navy blue and with the Kings Row crest silk-screened on the ass. He and Aiden had shared a printmaking class last year and had thought it would be funny. They were right. They’d had _tons_ of other good ideas in that class too.

“What are you doing?” Jesse asked in something close to a yelp as Eugene undid his knickers and released the suspenders, letting them drop.

“Dude,” Eugene laughed as Jesse turned his head as far away as he could. “Chill. I don’t go commando in my fencing gear, okay? No need to freak out.”

“A little warning would have been nice.” Jesse resolutely kept his head turned until Eugene had finished pulling his pants on. He was tugging off his socks—which had inched down his calves over the last couple of hours—when Jesse finally deemed it safe to look again. “I’m going to change now,” Jesse said, arm stretched behind him at an angle with the majority of his back presented to Eugene. “Turn away.”

“I’m turned as much as I can be,” Eugene returned.

“Close your eyes,” Jesse demanded.

“Sure.”

Eugene didn’t close his eyes. He thought about pointing out that if they resituated so his arm crossed over his back instead of his chest, Jesse could probably get more privacy but it was fun to see Jesse squirm so he decided against being helpful.

Idly, Eugene wondered how conservative, exactly, Jesse was. Seiji didn’t like having any more skin available for touching around other people than he could help, always changing in a far corner of the locker room or, better yet, changing behind locked doors. But he was an extreme case. Jesse seemed like he was generally cautious about touching but there was no way he avoided locker rooms so Eugene didn’t see why he was so embarrassed about changing out of his gear in front of Eugene the way he changed in front of his team all the time.

“Nice undies,” Eugene said. “Bumblebees. Cute.”

Jesse spun on him, whipping the pants that matched the yellow bees on his boxer briefs so that they hit Eugene. He laughed, raising a hand in surrender when Jesse continued the attack.

“I told you not to look!”

“You told me to turn away and close my eyes. Technically, I was never told I wasn’t allowed to look.”

“It was implied and you know it.”

“Just trying to admire those legs.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Jesse said bitingly. “My legs, that’s what you were looking at.”

“Well, that and your ass.”

Jesse hit him with his favorite sweatpants again, burning red and glaring. Then he finally put the pants to better use and pulled them on. They fit.

“It’s not an unimpressive ass, if it makes you feel any better,” Eugene told Jesse magnanimously, avoiding a shove by catching Jesse’s wrist before the hit landed.

“Not fair,” Jesse said, jerking his hand out of Eugene’s hold. “If I had my good arm, you wouldn’t have been able to block that.”

“Good to know. But let’s call a truce and go watch more _Good Place_ , what do you say?”

“Fine. But only because I want to know what happens next and I’m done talking to you because you’re impossible.”

“I’m impossible? Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“I don’t need to, your constant attention is assurance enough that I look alright.”

“Not bad,” Eugene nodded, impressed with the comeback. “Maybe there really is hope for you yet.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m hungry.”

“Should have gone to the cafeteria when I suggested it,” Eugene said with no sympathy. They hadn’t even made it ten minutes into episode six.

“But I wasn’t hungry then.”

“Sorry, dinner’s basically over.”

“There’s still twenty minutes to the hour. No one closes at the forty, that would be stupid. Come on, I want food.”

“You’re telling me that you’re suddenly okay with going to my school's _wretched_ cafeteria and you want to go now that you’ve successfully gotten us both out of our shirts?”

“That was your fault. And the cafeteria will be emptier now, won’t it?”

“Probably,” Eugene said slowly, considering Jesse. He’d said something about not wanting to go eat surrounded by other people too, hadn’t he? So much of their bind had already been subject to public scrutiny. Eugene might have assumed that Jesse would bask in that attention, but even people who sought the spotlight were bound to have things they’d rather keep to themselves. And soulbinds were traditionally an intimate act, censored out of kids’ media as heavily as sex. Probably, Jesse bought into that. Eugene remembered the feeling of that ref’s hands all over his and Jesse’s hands, tugging at them. Remembered the prickle of eyes from all directions. He could understand a little why Jesse might have wanted to wait until the cafeteria was as empty as possible before going to get food. He just wished Jesse would have kept his jacket on in the meantime.

“If we don’t hurry, the cafeteria really will close,” Jesse said, scooting off the bed.

“You are so fucking lucky I’m nice,” Eugene grouched, putting his computer aside and standing as well.

“This is what you call being nice?”

“If I were being mean, I’d tell you to starve for the night.” Eugene regarded Jesse. Bare chest, bare feet, tousled hair, and the sweats that, for some godforsaken reason, he’d decided to wear low on his hips to show off the sharp V of his muscles and the subtle jut of his hipbones. He looked indecent. Exposed. Naked. “I can’t believe you couldn’t keep your clothes on until after dinner. Here,” Eugene pulled back his comforter and yanked out the fleece blanket he’d gotten at the movies a couple months back, “wear this.”

“No way,” Jesse said, turning up his nose in disgust, “I’m not wearing a _Spider-Man_ blanket.”

“Fine, be half-naked.” Eugene tugged his Spider-Man blanket over his own shoulders instead and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “If you’re so immodest, I don’t see why you made such a big deal about changing in front of me.”

“You look ridiculous,” Jesse huffed, “and that’s exactly why I didn’t want to wear that blanket.” Jesse pushed past Eugene to tug another blanket free, a yellow and white striped crochet blanket. “But this one will do.”

“No way,” Eugene said, but Jesse was already draping it over him, clutching it tight over his chest like a cape and pulling Eugene to the door, feet stepping into untied fencing sneakers. “Jesse, no way. That one’s my favorite, put it back. You can have Spidey or the comforter.”

“No, I like this one.” Jesse came to a stop at the door, looking over at Eugene, plainly waiting for Eugene to open it since his hands were full. They didn’t have time to argue if they wanted to eat, so Eugene opened the door.

The cafeteria was, thankfully, all but empty. Jesse looked unimpressed with the tomato soup and grilled cheese on the menu tonight.

“You should be thankful,” Eugene told him, loading up his tray with two sandwiches and a matching pair of fruit cups. Jesse didn’t look any more likely to get his own tray than he had been to open the door. “Grilled cheeses are one of the better dishes here.”

“That’s a little sad. I want a soup, too,” Jesse said, nodding to the line of little Styrofoam cups of red soup that Eugene had strategically passed over.

“Tough. We’re not doing soup.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not, you’ll spill.”

“I will not! What kind of peasant do you take me for?”

“No. No soup.”

“Yes soup,” Jesse said, darting his hand to grab a cup. With the blanket on him like a cape instead of around his neck like a towel the way Eugene currently wore his, there was a good chance it would slip off and land on the dirty floor if they started walking without Jesse’s hand securing it in place.

“I can’t win with you, can I? Put your damn soup on the tray then, but if you spill, I’m skinning you.”

Jesse gave him a withering look but, once they were seated and Jesse was onto his soup—he didn’t even dip the sandwich into the soup, he ate them separately like a maniac—his right hand was so unsteady that his spoon shook dangerously.

“Fucking hell, give me that,” Eugene snapped, taking the spoon from Jesse. “You’re going to spill tomato sauce all over my blanket.”

“Give that back, I want to eat my soup.”

“I should throw away your stupid soup right now and drag you back to my room kicking and screaming,” Eugene muttered darkly, refilling the spoon, which most of Jesse’s attempted bite had sloshed out of before it even made it past the rim of the cup. “Here,” he said before Jesse could throw another fit, “open up.”

With the soup pressed to his lips, Jesse didn’t have much choice, but his surprise was funny. Eugene tipped the soup into his mouth and went to reload the spoon. Jesse didn’t object, opening his mouth for Eugene without prompting this time. Of all crazy things, Eugene definitely had not imagined his day to end up here. Hadn’t imagined his bind to be like this. Feeding Jesse fucking Coste some stupid fucking soup. But he’d settled down, at least, quietly eating the soup. Really, he was almost cute. It was only because he wasn’t talking and because the very tips of his ears had started going pink.

“Looks like you two are getting along well!” Nick’s voice was full of laughter, which spilled out shortly after he spoke. Little bastard.

“Caf closes in two minutes, what’s your sorry ass doing down here?”

“Grabbing a snack. But, Eugene, man, I am _loving_ the blanket look, I think you could start a whole new trend. Paired with the invisible shirts, it’s really innovative.”

“You can blame my soulmate for that part,” Eugene said with a laugh.

“I bet I can. And here we all thought you guys didn’t get along.”

“We don’t,” Jesse lashed, standing abruptly.

“Guess we’re done with the soup, then,” Eugene said, discarding the spoon. “Go get your bedtime snack, Nick, and give Seiji my love. It looks like I’m leaving now.”

“Right. Hey, practice canceled tomorrow?”

“Over my dead body. You’d all better be there or I’m whooping some asses, hear me?”

“Seiji will be happy to hear that, he was muttering about the inconvenience of your soulbind.”

“I’m not even surprised that _he’s_ complaining about _my_ inconvenience. See you rascals tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye. Good luck and all that.”

Eugene was barely able to convince Jesse to let him stop by to clear their tray before pulling him back to his room at full speed. Any cuteness he might have had when Eugene was feeding him his dumb soup was gone, he was back to being huffy and dissatisfied with everything.

Jesse locked the door with a pointed click and Eugene would have made some smartass remark about it if his phone hadn’t buzzed at that exact moment. When he saw Nick’s name on the screen under a massive group chat, Eugene had a feeling he could guess what Nick had sent.

“Come on,” Jesse nagged, pulling at him, “are you just going to stand there for the rest of the night?”

Eugene let Jesse pull him back to the bed before opening up his message from Nick. A video. Even before clicking play, Eugene saw himself and Jesse on the screen, facing each other in an empty cafeteria, blankets about their bare shoulders. The video was only a couple seconds long but it captured Eugene bringing a spoonful of soup to Jesse’s lips, who held his blanket shut loosely, their left hands sitting grasped between them. It was captioned _soulmates_ with about a million different heart emojis.

The texts started pouring in.

this chat vored all the other chats  
  
**Today,** 9:10 PM  
Candy Kane:  
holy shit is that a bind I see?  
  
Candy Kane:  
what the fuck guys why didn’t anyone bother to tell me Eugene went and stuck himself a soulmate???  
  
oh captain my (ex)captain:  
Isn’t that Jesse Coste?  
  
oh captain my (ex)captain:  
What on earth happened at your match today?  
  
  
  


this chat vored all the other chats  
  
Short Stuff 💕🌸🥞:  
Cute!! 💕  
  
Crazy Red🦊:  
forget about what happened at the match, what happened to your clothes??  
  
Short Stuff 💕🌸🥞:  
✂️✂️✂️  
  
Cool Mom:  
oh my  
  
Crazy Red🦊:  
cute blankies 🤣  
  
  
  


this chat vored all the other chats  
  
The Nickster:  
Poor Jesse can’t even feed himself :(((  
  
Seiji Weiji:  
You should have let him starve, Eugene  
  
Cool Mom:  
What DID happen at the match?  
  
oh captain my (ex)captain:  
Was it postponed? Or did this happen after the match? Looks like a captains’ handshake that got you  
  
  
  


this chat vored all the other chats  
  
oh captain my (ex)captain:  
Eugene what possessed you to go bare handed?  
  
Candy Kane:  
Our little Eugene, all grown up 😢  
  
Candy Kane:  
TELL ME EVERYTHING  
  
  


And on it went. Eugene turned off his phone and found that Jesse had been reading over his shoulder, unabashed at being caught.

“I want you to tell all your friends to delete that video,” Jesse said, back to making demands. But this one was framed almost like a request. That was progress.

“I could, but they won’t do it. But they won’t spread it around either, don’t worry.”

“We look stupid in it, I don’t want _anyone_ having that video.”

“What’re you talking about, we look adorable in our blanket capes.”

“Why do you care so much about this blanket, anyway?” Jesse asked, tugging the blanket in question snug around his shoulders.

“Lolo—my grandpa—crocheted that for my birthday last year. And it’s super comfy.”

“It is,” Jesse agreed. “Are you close with him?”

“Yeah, I used to spend summers with him and Lola when I was little.”

“Why don’t you anymore?”

“I still spend time over with them, just not the whole summer. At Kings Row, I don’t see my parents and siblings as much anymore, you know? So summers are reserved for them. I think my parents appreciate the break, though, when we all ship out to them for a week in July.”

“Are they, um…are they still at wherever you’re…from?” To his credit, Jesse winced at his own question and went cherry red. “Never mind, you don’t have to answer that.”

Eugene let Jesse shift uncomfortably for a bit. Then he shook his head, almost laughed.

“The Philippines,” Eugene told Jesse. “I’m Filipino-American, since you were wondering. But I’m not really from there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s cool. They’re not in the Philippines, though. They’re over in California.”

“Oh,” Jesse said, sounding relieved to be back on familiar ground, “I like California.”

“Me too. What about you? Any grandparents?”

“Yes, but I’m not that close with any of them. I’ll go to the country club for dinners with my dad’s parents and my grandfather likes to take me golfing but I can’t imagine spending a whole week with them, much less a whole summer.”

“Your grandparents sound stuffy. Country clubs and golfing. Do they have covers on their furniture too?”

“God, it’s like you’ve met them,” Jesse laughed. “Crocheting sounds way more fun than golfing.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, I never had the attention span to learn a lick about crocheting, try as Lolo might to teach me. He’s having a bit more luck with Junior.”

“That’s the…?”

“The biggest of my little brothers.”

“And Fritz is the littlest.”

“Yup. And Luna’s the sister, be careful of her or she’ll bite your head off. And Marcus is the middle brother.”

“I don’t have any siblings. Are they a lot of fun?”

“They’re simultaneously the best and worst. No, for real, I love them. Even when they’re the worst.”

“I’m sorry I almost spilled soup on your grandfa—Lolo’s blanket.”

“You should be,” Eugene said severely, but caught the blanket as Jesse tried to shrug it off sheepishly, pulling it tight around him again. “But we avoided disaster. And it looks sweet on you, matches your hair.”

Jesse retook the edges of the blanket and ducked his head. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, you ask, is it always Spider-Man? Because Spider-Man is the coolest. It’s not my fault all my favorite characters have great taste.


	7. Chapter 7

Jesse, Eugene discovered very quickly, was not a night owl. He'd started drooping sleepily right after dinner around _nine freaking PM_ and was basically conked out now, an hour later _._ But with his phone plugged into the charger, Eugene could manage chilling in bed dicking around on the internet until the sleep came for him too.

“You ready for bed?” Eugene asked, closing his computer for the last time tonight and putting it on the nightstand next to his clock. Jesse stifled a yawn and nodded. “Let’s get the lights and we can get to it, then. I think it might be a little hot for all the blankets plus two people in one bed, though, so—,”

“Two people in one bed?” Jesse repeated, sleepy stupor falling away. He scanned the room desperately.

“Yeah, one bed. Williams cleared out my roommate’s bed in a timely manner. Okay, so semi-timely. Took her a month to remember about it but it’s long gone now.”

Jesse clearly hadn’t realized about the _one bed_ situation until now, which Eugene thought was pretty rich since they’d been sitting on it together for hours.

“I’m not really tired, let’s just keep watching the show.”

“You were practically falling asleep,” Eugene said, unconvinced.

“But I’ve got my second wind now, I’m not sleepy at all.”

“Like you weren’t hungry?”

“Yes, just like that.”

“You’re a pain in the ass. I know you’re tired, let’s just go to bed. Technically, I’ve got fencing in the morning anyway so we’ll be up early.”

Eugene started pulling back the last remaining blanket on his bed, the Kings Row-issued comforter, but Jesse resisted climbing in.

“Wait.”

“What now?” Eugene groaned, turning back to Jesse. He looked out of sorts. Eugene’s exasperation was only growing.

“We need to change the sheets first.”

And growing.

“We need to what?”

“How do I know you keep clean or when the last time you changed your sheets is? I’m not sleeping in someone else’s dirty sheets.”

“They’re not dirty. Just buck up and get in.”

“No. I won’t.”

Eugene debated his next move. Jesse must have read it on him because he seemed to plant himself firmly in place.

“It will be easier if you just listen to me,” Jesse said. “You can try wrestling me into the bed but even if you can pull it off, you can’t keep me there forever.”

“I’m not in the habit of wrestling boys into my bed who don’t want to be there. Alright, fine, we’ll change the fucking sheets but then we’re going to bed and you’re gonna sleep nice and sound so I get a couple hours of peace, got that?”

“Sure,” Jesse agreed breezily and danced to his feet.

Kings Row provided each student with two sets of sheets so after stripping the bed, Eugene and Jesse were faced with the task of getting the new ones on. _I didn’t think this one through,_ Eugene realized, staring at his single available hand in dismay.

Tangled as he was with Jesse and handicapped as they both were, they were basically doomed. Fitted sheets were a bitch to start with but they struggled to even get two corners on before it sprung back at them.

“Just hold it there,” Eugene said irritably when Jesse lost his hold on the kitty-corner to the one Eugene had been hooking onto the bed.

“I’m working with my non-dominant hand, remember?” Jesse demanded hotly.

“Even your foot should be able to do something this simple.”

“It’s difficult because you keep pulling too hard.”

“Because that’s how you make these sheets fit.” Eugene yanked at the sheet while Jesse was still retrieving his corner of it. He hadn’t been expecting the tug and ended up face planting into the mattress, just as Eugene had intended.

Eugene laughed as Jesse righted himself and crossed his right arm over his chest, holding onto the bicep of his left and cutting a disgruntled pose even without the ability to complete the look by crossing his other arm as well.

“If you’re going to be an asshole, you can put the sheet on yourself.”

“You’re the one that wanted to change the sheets.”

“I didn’t even want to go to bed.”

“Yes, you totally did. Liar. Now pick up the sheet and put it back on that corner before we lose the other one.”

Jesse picked up the sheet and, never breaking eye contact, gave it a yank and dropped it to the floor with a flourish, undoing all progress they’d made.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Eugene yanked back his arm, sending Jesse plowing into the mattress face-first. Again.

“Don’t test my patience,” he warned, then squatted to pick up the sheet, his half of it still within his reach, but just barely.

When he looked up, his face was inches away from Jesse’s. He looked disheveled and not entirely pleased, propped up on an elbow.

“If I’ve got rug burns from that stunt, I’m suing you.”

“If you got rug burns from that, you should sue whoever’s genes you inherited to give you such sensitive skin. Come on, let’s put the sheet on. I promise I’m done fucking with you.”

Jesse hummed in consideration.

“For the duration of the sheet adventure or for the rest of the night?”

“For the rest of the night if it’ll make you cooperate.”

“Swear it?”

“Pinky swear,” Eugene said seriously, hooking his finger with Jesse’s to prove it.

“Alright.”

Eugene stood, Jesse slid off the bed, and they lined the sheet up with the mattress as best they could. Jesse held the sheet in place as Eugene pulled the first corner back into place. Then Eugene held it tight while Jesse hooked the second corner. He managed to keep either one of the bottom corners from popping off when Eugene moved to the top of the bed to capture the third. _And now for the final test._ Eugene climbed up onto the mattress.

“I’m starting to think,” Eugene grunted, holding down his corner of sheet with a knee as he tried to finagle the final one around the bed, “that wrestling _you_ into bed and keeping you in place would have been loads easier than trying to wrestle the sheets into place.”

“I’m starting to think I might agree,” Jesse said. “Who knew tandem bed making was so difficult?”

Eugene huffed a laugh as he finally finished the job.

“Ha! Take that!” He cried in jubilation, climbing off to grab the top sheet and his blankets to toss back into place. Jesse straightened them out, then tossed the pillow—complete with fresh pillowcase—to him. Once it was all done, Eugene flopped onto the bed.

“Now _I’m_ ready for bed,” he said with a sigh.

“What are you doing?” Jesse asked. Eugene peeked open an eye to see Jesse frowning down at him.

“Oh, right. Lights. Yeah, let’s get those off.”

Eugene roused himself and hit the lights but, before he could get back to his bed, Jesse climbed on hurriedly and didn’t scoot over. Eugene could just make out his defiant expression in the dark.

“Move,” he said.

“You can have the floor.”

Eugene laughed. Jesse’s face stayed defiant and punchable.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“Man, sharing a bed is not the end of the world, stop being a drama queen.”

“There’s not room for you.”

“There’s plenty of room.”

“It will be easier with our arm situation if I sleep on my stomach with my arm dangling off the bed and you sleep on your back on the floor.”

“That sounds hella uncomfortable for me. Move or I’ll make you.”

“You said you were done messing with me for the night.”

“This doesn’t count as messing with you,” Eugene protested, “it’s my bed, I’ve got every right to move you so I fit.”

“I’m the guest, which means it’s your duty to take the floor.”

“No fucking way. I’ve let you have your way all day—I let you have the pillow, I let you have the charger, I let you have the blanket, and I let you have the soup. I even let you waste my time fucking around with sheets. But I am sleeping on my own fucking bed tonight whether you like it or not. You’re free to join me or sleep on the floor.”

“But I can’t!” Jesse protested in a tizzy.

“Then I don’t see why you expect me to sleep on the floor instead.”

“I can’t share the bed with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I—because it’s—it’s—it’s improper and you’re taking advantage again.”

“I haven’t been the one taking advantage this whole time,” Eugene glared and Jesse shrank. It wasn’t hard this time to prod Jesse over and tease the blankets out from under him.

Fitting in the bed lengthwise was a lot harder than just sitting on it with their legs dangling off the edge had been. Kings Row’s beds weren’t tiny but they weren’t built for two teenage boys to a bed, not without some serious Tetrising.

“You’re squashing me into the wall,” Jesse complained.

“I’m still on the very edge of the bed,” Eugene complained right back. “This isn’t going to work.”

“I told you it wouldn’t.”

“Come here,” Eugene said, ignoring Jesse’s mutterings and scooping his free right arm under Jesse’s back, flipping him and pulling him close and scooting himself farther onto the bed all at once. “You can sleep on your stomach, right? Since that was your original plan?”

Jesse didn’t answer. Eugene thought he was probably stunned. But he was also pretty trapped. They were slotted together now rather than laying shoulder to shoulder, arms folded and pressed between them, Jesse half on top of Eugene, blond hair close enough to Eugene’s face to tickle when he shifted and found a comfortable position to pillow his head on Eugene’s chest.

“I hate this,” Jesse said, breath ghosting over Eugene’s skin. Eugene pulled the blankets up over them and yawned. He really wouldn’t need to waste time on his phone. Either the process of your soul binding with someone else’s took a toll on you or being with Jesse Coste was just exhausting.

“But are you squashed against a wall anymore?” Eugene asked.

“I guess not.”

Jesse’s fingers brushed against his ribcage, his unencumbered arm unsure what to do at Eugene’s side. They were already so close, there really wasn’t any point to being self-conscious about more touching, but Jesse’s arm still hovered awkwardly. Couldn’t be comfortable.

“Just relax,” Eugene murmured, wrapping his own right arm across Jesse’s shoulder, following instinct for what usually felt right and good in these situations and pressing lightly against Jesse’s head, holding it to him with cornsilk hair slipping between his fingers. In the dark, it felt like the thing to do but Eugene held his breath when he realized what he’d done and who he’d tried to pull the move on. Jesse was sure to demand he migrate to the floor now.

But he didn’t. Jesse’s entire body seemed to let out a sigh of relief, tension and stiffness leaking from his muscles as he followed Eugene’s advice and relaxed. His arm even curled around Eugene.

“I’m only doing this because we don’t fit any other way,” he said.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this fic was one long math problem, I swear to fuck. one of the spacial awareness ones that’s like ‘what does this shape look like from the other side’ or ‘where do the holes in this folded piece of paper go when the paper is unfolded’. so basically, the math that i am the worst at because i have shit spacial reasoning. I nearly had to go break out the barbies to act this shit out


	8. Chapter 8

“Can you unplug your clock?”

Eugene had already been dozing off when Jesse asked, the voice so small, it wouldn’t have woken Eugene if he’d been fully asleep.

“My clock?” Eugene asked, still groggy with almost-sleep.

“It’s neon green-ness is making it hard for me to sleep.”

“Um, let me see if I can—,” Eugene tried extracting his left arm—the arm closest to his nightstand—but found it trapped. _Right_. “Sorry, bud, my hands are tied.” Eugene wouldn’t be able to reach with the hand currently buried in Jesse’s hair so he didn’t even try.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you can’t, can you?”

“Not really. But you could try, I don’t mind if you unplug it.”

Jesse did try, his lifted arm and shifting weight making Eugene feel weirdly cold across every inch of skin that had previously been warmed by Jesse’s. He fell back onto Eugene soon after, retucking himself into place.

“It’s too far,” he said. “We’d have to rearrange completely for me to reach it.”

“Do we need to?” Eugene didn’t want to bother with edging around until Jesse could reach the clock and then try to find their way back to a comfortable position after tugging the cord free. “I mean, if it’s important, we can, but is it? Important?”

“I usually sleep in total darkness, that’s all.”

“You could turn your head?” Eugene suggested, heavy arm already lifting to leave Jesse’s head and let him turn it toward the wall.

“That’s alright, I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure.” Eugene let his arm settle back as it was.

“Hey, do you remember when we shook?”

“You mean, like, do I remember that one time we shook hands at our fencing match and got stuck together? Yeah, Jesse, I remember that.”

“No, I mean, like, the time. The hour, the minute.”

So they were still talking about clocks.

“Uh, no. I didn’t clock the exact moment. Would have been about three, though, since that was when our match was scheduled to start. So we’ve only got,” Eugene glanced at the clock, “approximately fifteen hours left of this.”

“We’ll have to pay attention tomorrow around three to see when the bind lets off.”

“Why?”

“To mark for our Soul Day, obviously. I want it down to the hour. The minute, if possible, but that’s tricky to do unless you want to spend the last hour of your bind watching the clock, which isn’t very romantic.”

“Has _any_ of this been romantic? I’m starting to think binds are just inconvenient and annoying and awful and not at all romantic like how people try to sell it.”

“I want to get our anniversary right,” Jesse persisted, ignoring Eugene’s snark. _Fair enough_. But Eugene couldn’t help laughing a little. “What?” Jesse asked. “Why are you laughing at me? Soul Days are important.”

“You really buy into this soulmate stuff, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. And I don’t see that you need to make fun of me just because you don’t care about any of this. I can’t believe that of all people, I got someone that doesn’t care at all.”

“Woah, hey, it’s not that I don’t care,” Eugene protested, “I just don’t see why it’s such a big thing. It’s just another part of life, you know?”

“A really important part of life.”

“Right. You and Bobby really should talk, he’s a romantic too, loves soulmate business to death.”

“I noticed.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. He _did_ give you the rundown of the Kings Row legendary soulmate turnout rate, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Soul Day, huh? I think it’s fitting, really, that you’re invading my life to the point where you’re even taking half my birthday for this anniversary thing.”

“It’s your birthday?” Jesse asked sharply, slapping his palm against Eugene’s chest and craning his neck to glare.

“Not yet.”

“Good. God, it’s just like you to not mention that it’s your birthday until last minute, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it _had_ been today.”

Eugene found it funny that Jesse thought he knew what was ‘just like’ him.

“Why do you care? It’s not like it’s all that important to our current situation.”

“See? _That’s_ exactly why I thought you’d waited until eleven at night to say anything about it—you just don’t get it. No matter what, I _am_ your soulmate and missing the first birthday I spend with you has got to be some sort of bad luck.”

“It’s not a big deal. And I promise you you wouldn’t have been able to miss it. My family would have been all over me, and Bobby, too, and, like, all my friends, basically. You’d have caught on from context.”

“But I didn’t,” Jesse said in a horrified little voice. “Your mom, she said I should come to your birthday party. And Bobby said that fixing your jacket was your birthday present and I didn’t even think anything of it. You’ve got to tell me these things, Eugene, they’re important to me, okay?”

“Okay, I promise to tell you about my next birthday with plenty of time to spare.” Jesse continued glaring. “Okay,” Eugene repeated, no tag ons this time.

“How old are you turning?”

“Eighteen.”

“You found me just in time,” Jesse said decisively. “It’s good luck to find your soulmate before you’re eighteen and you found me the day before you turned.”

“I told you I don’t really…” _care about that sort of stuff._ But Eugene abandoned the sentence. “Yeah, found you just in the nick of time,” he agreed with a roll of his eyes Jesse couldn’t see. “But, technically, even if we hadn’t gotten soulstuck today, I still knew you last year.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because we could have easily walked out of each other’s lives without ever knowing we were soulmates.” Jesse seemed to burrow the tiniest bit deeper into Eugene’s shoulder, both his hands tightening their hold on him. For someone that didn’t like him, this display of clinginess was a little funny. Funny, or something else.

But Eugene could also understand it when he thought on that possibility. After he graduated, would there have been all that much opportunity for him and Jesse to meet? To touch? To find each other in the way soulmates were meant to? Eugene had always thought he wouldn’t be heartbroken if he never found his soulmate and maybe he really would have been just as happy if he hadn’t bonded with Jesse.

But thinking about it retroactively was different. Pain in the ass that Jesse was, he was bound to Eugene, important to him in a way he couldn’t know yet because he didn’t know Jesse yet. But now that he had the possibility of it in his hand, the thought of walking past Jesse during the one intersection of their lives was as unpleasant as that director’s pull on their hands had been. It was the bond, Eugene could only assume, working its magic and tying him and Jesse together in red string.

“I’ve always thought,” Eugene said after they’d both spent time in their minds, “that it’s a bit counterintuitive to be so strict about touching. Shouldn’t you be touching everyone you meet so you don’t let your soulmate slip away?”

“It’s more romantic if every touch is special instead.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s romantic,” Jesse insisted.

“It’s not practical.”

“Neither are soulbinds. Soulmates aren’t really meant to be practical.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You think a lot of things are bullshit.”

“That’s because a lot of things are bullshit,” Eugene explained. Jesse breathed a laugh and shook his head.

The conversation was over and Eugene turned his mind back to sleep. But he felt alert now, aware of everything around him. Of the boy resting on him. The way he could feel Jesse’s chest expand with air, his heart pump blood, his soft breaths. The way his hair smelled sweet and fresh and felt soft in his hand. The way his other hand felt gripped in Jesse’s and pressed between them.

Eugene hadn’t done much research on bonds. Everything he knew about them was stuff you couldn’t avoid learning. But he hadn’t realized what it felt like to be soulstuck to someone. He’d always thought it would be like if you were literally glued to them, their skin sticky to yours so that even if you tried to pull away, the skin would elastic back together. Similar to the results of some really strong super glue and really bad decisions.

It wasn’t like that at all. It was unnerving because it felt like a choice. Just not one your brain knew you’d made. Eugene couldn’t pull his hand off of Jesse at all, his grip stayed firm and sure and would only listen to the signals his brain tried to send to an extent, refusing to loosen enough for the grip to ever fall. It wasn’t that his muscles were stiff and unable to let go, it was that his hand was absolutely _unwilling_ to let go of Jesse.

When Eugene wasn’t trying to do something with his left hand and being surprised to find Jesse’s had come with it, and when he wasn’t actively trying to let go—when he forgot to pay attention to what his hand was doing and that it wasn’t doing what he wanted it to, it just felt like he was holding Jesse’s hand. Albeit in a twenty-four-hour handshake. It really would have been more comfortable if they were just holding hands like normal.

The room was quiet but for steady breathing and dark but for the fluorescent green lettering on the digital clock that Jesse had complained about and, finally, Eugene was feeling ready for sleep. Jesse certainly seemed to be asleep. Which was why it surprised Eugene to hear Jesse’s voice again, quiet and a little heavy with sleep but clearly audible when the clock turned over one more minute.

“Happy birthday, Eugene.”


	9. Chapter 9

Eugene woke up with hair in his mouth. The hair did _not_ belong to him. He smoothed it back down into place on the blond head knocking against his chin.

Jesse groaned, withdrawing his arm from around Eugene to pull the blanket up over his face, turning even farther into his chest to avoid the morning sun and Eugene’s phone, blasting out a song to wake them up. Eugene couldn’t reach it to turn it off without dislodging Jesse first. And Jesse was not proving easy to dislodge.

“Don’t be that way,” Eugene said as Jesse tucked the comforter firmly around him after Eugene tried taking it away. “We’ve gotta get up, come on.”

“No,” came Jesse’s muffled response.

“Yes. I’ve got a team to oversee.”

“I can’t oversee my team, why should you get to oversee yours? It’s—,”

“Not fair?”

Jesse’s head popped up briefly to scowl at Eugene before burrowing deep into the blanket again.

“Come on,” Eugene cajoled, working fingers into Jesse’s hair. “You can sleep in tomorrow. With complete darkness and your own bed, yeah? Let’s get going, I even have a spare toothbrush you can use. We can go down and get breakfast.” Jesse shook his head _no_ , but he was letting his guard slip so Eugene kept talking. Just a little longer. “And then, after I check in with my team, we can come back here and the day is yours. Naps or _Good Place_ marathon or endless games of rock, paper, scissors. Whatever you want.”

The moment Jesse relaxed, Eugene uprooted him, rolling them over so Jesse wasn’t on top of him anymore to bar his good hand from reaching the nightstand and his phone. The alarm stopped playing in a matter of seconds and Eugene was left with Jesse staring grumpily up at him, unimpressed with Eugene’s stunt.

“It’s too early in the morning for more manhandling,” Jesse said primly.

“You left me no choice.” But Eugene climbed off of him and to his feet, pulling Jesse up with him into a sitting position. Without the pressure of their bodies compressing his left arm, pins and needles started running their course all through it.

“Ah!” Jesse gasped, shaking out his arm and flexing his fingers around Eugene’s hand. “My arm,” he complained, looking at Eugene with accusation.

“Don’t look at me, you’re the one who was on them all night.”

“You’re the one that put me there,” Jesse countered.

“It was bound to happen no matter what.”

“If you’d just slept on the floor like I said, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“You didn’t seem to mind all that much that I slept on the bed not even five minutes ago, so I’m gonna go ahead and call bullshit on that.”

Jesse blushed and harrumphed, hurrying to his feet and dragging Eugene to the bathroom. Eugene laughed when Jesse fumbled the toothbrush Eugene had provided him in his clumsy right hand.

“Shut up,” Jesse garbled around the toothbrush, replaced back in his mouth after the fumble. “Like you could do any better.”

“I’m sure I could,” Eugene said after spitting. “Remind me to show you how capable I am of brushing my damn teeth—even using my off hand—sometime.”

“Like when?” Jesse asked contemptuously. As contemptuously as possible when frothing at the mouth with toothpaste.

Eugene finished gurgling, spat again, then thumped Jesse’s hand against his chest.

“Like when we’re happily married or whatever.” Again, Jesse went red, which Eugene thought was a hoot. “Aren’t you the one who keeps going on about romance and all that?”

Platonic soulmates weren’t unheard of but Eugene doubted that either of them really believed they wouldn’t be tricked by fate into falling in love. Most people were.

Jesse finished brushing his teeth and wiped at his mouth.

“I hate mint toothpaste, it burns.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Eugene promised, swiping on deodorant and offering the stick to Jesse. “Stock up on bubblegum toothpaste for next time, maybe.”

Jesse didn’t think that was funny. That was why Eugene knew it _was_ funny. It was weird, though, this forced domesticity. Eugene had coexisted pretty peacefully with his old roommate but they’d never been the type to step around each other in a matched morning routine. They’d taken turns in the bathroom like normal people. He hadn’t expected the experience of brushing your teeth and washing your face and deodorizing in front of the mirror with someone to be so…intimate.

“I’m not changing,” Jesse said firmly when Eugene swerved for the wardrobe. His tone made it clear that the reason he wouldn’t change was so Eugene couldn’t peep. Truthfully, Eugene had already gotten a look and he’d have left Jesse alone but he abandoned the wardrobe. There wasn’t really any point to changing pants anyway, for either of them.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“What do you mean?” Jesse asked, slow and suspicious.

“Just, it’s breakfast on a Saturday. It’s gonna be crowded all through the meal. You still want to go down?”

“I’m hungry,” Jesse admitted after thinking it over. “But we can’t wear blankets today, can we?”

“Why not?”

“Isn’t the whole reason you dragged me out of bed so you could go fence…or, well, supervise your ragtag team while _they_ fence? You can’t wear a blanket for that.”

“I can too. Or I could wear it to breakfast and ditch it at the gym.”

“Not everyone wants to look at your naked chest, Eugene—,”

“Just you, then?”

“ _And_ it’s uncouth to subject everyone to all,” Jesse gestured over him, “that.”

“For what it’s worth, I still think this,” Eugene gestured over Jesse, “is a good look on you. You’re not bad looking, you know. It distracts from your personality.”

Jesse fluffed his hair, ignoring Eugene. It fell into place even more perfectly than it had been when he’d just woken up—the rebellious strands that had found their way to Eugene’s lips notwithstanding. The revitalization of his hair seemed to mark the start of the day for Jesse because all vestiges of sleepy grumpiness were gone. He stooped to the floor to pick up two white shirts, left ruined and forgotten overnight.

“You’re not serious,” Eugene said.

“I should have thought of it last night,” Jesse replied, pushing one of the shirts at Eugene. “But I was out of sorts. Cut up shirts are better than blankets.”

“I disagree.” Eugene pulled on his cut-open shirt for the hell of it, messily chopped up along the seam from the bottom of the shirt all through the left sleeve of it, a little tear at the collar marking its initial rip from last night. When he moved, the slit down his left side readjusted with the movement, feeling weird and breezy. “Blankets are more dignified than this.”

“Wait, I gave you the wrong one.”

“No, this one’s mine.”

“I know.” Jesse had maneuvered himself into his shirt too, but when he straightened it out, he took up the hem of it and pulled it out in front of him, displaying its wreckage to Eugene. “But you should have to wear this one since you ripped it.”

“It’s not so bad,” Eugene dismissed. “Not that much worse than mine, anyway.” Sure, when he’d ripped the last of it open yesterday evening, it had torn at a bit of an angle, shifting the slit up his shirt to hang over more stomach than side near the bottom, but it could have been much worse. Adjusted as it was now, it covered everything it needed to, no nipple peeking out or anything.

“Then you can wear it.”

“Let me just remind you that I wanted to wear my Spidey blanket. But we’re already dressed now. Let’s go eat.”

“Do you have any safety pins?”

“Nope.”

Eugene _did_ have safety pins. Bobby had stocked him up ages ago, saying they were good things to have around. Eugene agreed with that, generally speaking. But he wasn’t about to fuck around with safety pins one-handed or let Jesse hurt himself by trying to do the same. So he lied and watched as Jesse pieced his shirt back together like a puzzle and tucked it into his pants. He looked stupid as all hell in the getup, especially after they’d pulled on their sneakers, but Eugene didn’t say anything. He knew he looked just as ridiculous.

The cafeteria was full of students milling about getting breakfast. Bobby waved from his table with Dante and Nick. He also mouthed _happy birthday_ and made a little heart with his hands. Eugene grinned and tossed him a peace sign in appreciation. Bobby’s wasn’t the last happy birthday wish he encountered on the way to the food line.

“I’m hungry, stop playing around,” Jesse said after Eugene’s third friend left with a last _happy birthday, man._

“Sorry, I can’t help that I’ve got friends.”

“I’d like it better if you didn’t have so many.”

“Hey, they were all nice, weren’t they?” Eugene protested, bumping his shoulder into Jesse’s. They had to walk so close together already that it was hardly any effort at all to do so. “No one said anything.”

“But they stared.”

“Not much for it,” Eugene shrugged. “We’re something to stare at for the time being.”

It was generally considered rude to comment on soulbinds unless you were real close with one of the people involved in the bind. None of Eugene’s guys outside the team were the type of friends he’d talk about intimate stuff like soulmates with, so none of them said anything more than a quick happy birthday. Common courtesy was really the only thing saving them from lots of questions about their attire. People could deduce why their shirts were cut open but it was clearly soulmate business, which meant it was none of _their_ business.

“Cereal or waffle?” Eugene asked when they were up in line. Jesse glanced over the breakfast layout.

“Waffles,” Jesse decided.

“Good man,” Eugene nodded, loading the tray with waffles. “Toppings?” He asked, pouring syrup over his own stack.

“Strawberries. And whipped cream.”

“Got it.”

Tray laden with waffles, Eugene tugged Jesse over to his friends, sitting down to a loud and impressively off-key rendition of _Happy Birthday_.

“Nice shirt,” Nick snorted after the niceties were over. Bobby swatted him disapprovingly.

“Nick! That’s rude.”

“It’s fine,” Eugene dismissed, digging into his food. Jesse probably didn’t think it was fine. But that was a problem for Future Eugene to deal with when Jesse complained at him about how rude his friends were after they’d left.

“I was going to bring you guys breakfast in bed,” Bobby said, “but Nick said you’re coming to practice anyway so there wasn’t much point.”

“Bobby, you’re a saint, and when I have my arm back, I’m hugging you,” Eugene informed him after swallowing his ambitious bite of waffle. It was sweet of Bobby to think of sparing them the trip to the cafeteria, but it made sense. He’d gone through his bind a little over a year ago and he’d skipped classes with Dante during it. Bobby understood about the weird exposed feeling being soulstuck left you with better than anyone else currently at Kings Row could. Present company excluded, of course—Jesse didn’t count, since they were going through this together. “And you bet I’m coming to practice. Can’t do much fencing but I’ll still be there, you can’t escape me that easy.”

“You’re silly,” Bobby said with a shake of his head. “But practice wouldn’t be the same without you.”

The others finished breakfast first, leaving to enjoy their free hour before practice in the gym. Eugene was done too—he’d inhaled his waffles ages ago—but Jesse was delicately picking away at his stack.

“Something wrong with your food?” Eugene asked when Dante and Bobby left, Bobby hanging off the big guy’s arm.

“No.”

“Then why haven’t you eaten anything?”

“Because I’m not a heathen and I prefer to keep my face clean when eating, which is hard to do when I can’t cut my waffles up.”

“You’re kidding. _That’s_ why you’re being so slow? I got napkins for a reason.”

“Yes, because _you_ need them. I saw the way you ate your waffles.”

“I made do because I’m adaptable,” Eugene said, taking up the butter knife that had been left untouched during his own meal. “Can’t you just fold up your waffle and stuff it in your mouth? The side of your fork wasn’t made fur cutting through a stack of waffles, bud.”

“I told you, I don’t want to get messy.”

“Right. You wield the fork, I’ve got the knife. Let’s cut up your breakfast so we’re not stuck here until our bind finishes.”

Jesse didn’t even say thanks, just held his fork in the stack like it was a chore as Eugene carved through it. They managed to cut it all up into bite-sized pieces this way and Jesse started eating in earnest. Eugene watched him, bored and with nothing else to do. Jesse was meticulous in making sure each bite had proper portions of strawberries and cream.

“You know,” Eugene said after several bites, “you could have just asked for help earlier.”

Jesse paused with his portioning out of fruit. “I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Eugene almost laughed and asked him since when had he decided he didn’t want to be a bother? But his ears were pink so Eugene left the quip unsaid.

“I would have helped. And I don’t know if you noticed, but Bobby’s lovely and helpful, he’d have done a much neater job of it for you.”

“You’re very fond of Bobby, aren’t you? You talk about him a lot.”

“‘Course I’m fond of Bobby, nobody that knows Bobby _isn’t_ fond of him. He’s a sweetie pie.” Jesse stabbed at his waffles with a frown. Interesting. “Did you miss the part where Bobby’s got a soulmate he’s totally in love with? Or that I’m stuck on you?”

“I didn’t think there was anything between you,” Jesse snapped. “I was just saying.”

“Right. And I’m just saying it’s a dumb thing to be putting any sort of thought into.”

“You say nice things to him a lot, I think it’s strange, that’s all. You’re not that nice to anyone else.”

“Not that nice to you, you mean?”

Jesse didn’t deny it, stabbing at his waffle again. He was having a hard time with this last bite. Eugene reached over and confiscated the fork, scooping all remaining waffles and strawberries and cream onto it.

“I just met you,” Eugene said, raising the fork slowly. “And you haven’t always been strictly nice either. But I think you’re interesting. It’s not like I’m trying to be mean to you.” Eugene tipped the fork into Jesse’s mouth. Despite everything, he got a dollop of whipped cream stuck in the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t noticed yet. Eugene put down his fork and swiped his thumb across the offending mess, popping it into his own mouth before standing. _Sweet_. “And I think you’re too picky about what you count as being nice.”

Jesse stared up at him, only getting with the program when Eugene took up their dishes to clear. He shuffled along quietly as Eugene organized the dishes and threw out the trash. Then, taking the last napkin when Eugene offered it to him, Jesse nodded slightly.

“Maybe.”


	10. Chapter 10

Eugene took Jesse to Kings Row’s fencing salle. It wasn’t like the dipshit hadn’t visited before for some good old posturing, but it was different to be bringing him here. Letting him into this place. Letting him in at all.

But it wasn’t like he was taking Jesse to the clubhouse.

Eugene’s teammates would be changing into fencing garb right now. Eugene had no need or capability to do the same so he headed to Coach Williams instead.

Williams raised an eyebrow at Eugene. It could have been for the fact that he’d shown up at all but her amusement clearly stemmed from his shirt.

“Mistakes were made,” Eugene told her in answer to her eyebrow’s question.

“They sure were,” Williams agreed. “Mistakes like shaking your opposing captain’s hand without a glove before our first match of the season come to mind.”

“Yeah, you’ve got me there,” Eugene admitted. 

“They’re adding a rule that states the initiator of any handshake must be wearing a glove,” she said mildly, like such a modification to the rule book wasn’t anything special.

“You’re kidding me,” Eugene whooped in a laugh, a little proud of this new badge of dishonor. “Aiden will be _so_ jealous when I tell him I’ve got a new rule named after me. So to speak.”

“Maybe,” Williams said, mouth tipping up dangerously. _Uh oh._ “But Aiden has plenty of rules named after him, literally and figuratively, in these hallowed halls of Kings Row.”

Williams whipped her blade against the wall with pinpoint accuracy, pushing aside some corners of newer additions to the wall and revealing a very unfortunate note.

_No skin to skin contact up to twenty-four hours before a match_

“I was sure _Aiden_ would pull this sort of stunt on me, Captain, but the rule stayed even after he left. Pity you didn’t study the board more closely.”

“Coach, you can’t seriously mean—,” Eugene protested, looking at the note in horror.

“What?” Jesse asked. He said it quietly and to Eugene, glancing at Williams suspiciously, unused to being treated as anything but an esteemed guest. Eugene might have thought it was funny that Williams’ usual tough-love attitude intimidated Jesse to the point of trying to hide in Eugene from her, but he was too busy with the absolute bullshit his coach was pulling on him to pay much attention to Jesse right now.

“It’s my birthday,” Eugene tried, charming smile and pleading eyes.

“Rules are rules, Eugene. You know the sentence.”

“You’re pure evil,” Eugene told her. “What am I supposed to do about _this?”_ He jerked his head toward Jesse.

“Figure it out, you’re a smart kid.”

“Adult,” Eugene corrected. “Technically speaking.”

“Get to it before you’re an elder.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What are you getting to?” Jesse asked, still utterly lost as Eugene tugged him to the top of the gym.

“We’re running suicides.”

Eugene was yanked to a sudden halt.

“No, we aren’t,” Jesse told him before he could ask what the hell he’d stopped for.

“That’s the rule. Disobey the wall or dare utter any of the forbidden phrases on it and you gotta do suicides.”

“That’s preposterous.”

“Pure evil,” Eugene reiterated in reference to his coach. “I wanna be just like her when I grow up.”

“I’m not running suicides, I’m not her pupil, she can’t make me. And neither can you.”

“I’ve got to run suicides and, right now, bud, you’re attached to me. So we’re running suicides. Come on.” Eugene got back to hauling Jesse along. He was damn reluctant about it.

“No way. I didn’t agree to this. You can do your little torture mission after we finish our bind, I’m not involved in this. You’re the one that initiated the shake without a glove.”

“You’re the one that _took off_ his glove. Haven’t we been over this? Stop making everything difficult, the sooner you buck up and do it, the faster it’s over. And then we can go back to bed like you wanted.”

“After taking showers,” Jesse said bluntly. Eugene nodded encouragingly.

“Yeah, after taking showers so we’re all squeaky clean.”

But, apparently, Jesse’s shower statement hadn’t been him relenting by setting the expectation that they’d wash before getting back in bed. He dug his heels in deeper and shook his head petulantly.

“I’m not doing it. I won’t. I’m serious, there’s nothing you can do to make me run suicides with you right now.”

“You afraid you’re not as fast as me? Won’t be able to keep up?” Eugene taunted. It almost worked. Jesse opened his mouth to snap out an angry challenge. An _I’ll show you who’s faster._ But then he took a breath through his open mouth before closing it again and shaking his head some more.

“I don’t have to prove that I’m faster than you because I already know I am.”

“Don’t have the stamina to keep up with me, then, huh?”

“I’m not doing it,” Jesse insisted.

Eugene was ready to give up and believe that Jesse wasn’t going to budge on this. He looked over to find Williams and ask to run suicides later due to unfortunate circumstances and uncooperative boys.

But she wasn’t by her wall anymore. Scanning the gym, Eugene saw her reappear through a door, a square of yellow under her arm and a twinkle in her eye. Pure. Evil.

“I thought you might need a little help,” she said, offering the floor scooter to Eugene. “Happy birthday, Captain.”

“Thanks,” Eugene said. She nodded with an evil smile and went back over to Lewis, who was fretting worriedly. Eugene dropped the scooter and waved off Lewis’s worries. “I’ve got this,” he assured her in a shout across the gym.

“Eugene…” Jesse said warningly. Eugene ignored him and jabbed a finger down at the yellow square on wheels.

“Sit.”

“I won’t.”

“Sit or I’ll make you.”

“Just try to.”

“Suit yourself.”

Eugene squatted down and grabbed Jesse’s legs out from under him, causing him to tumble to the floor. Eugene was braced for the pull on his arm and didn’t fall on top of Jesse this time.

“You gonna sit your ass on that thing or do you want me to do that part too?” Eugene asked cheerily.

“You and your coach are both insane,” Jesse mumbled, but he _did_ pull himself onto the scooter, crossing his legs to fit neatly on it.

“Thanks for noticing,” Eugene grinned.

He noticed again that his shirt was hanging open. It would flap around annoyingly while he ran. Eugene considered taking it off. Jesse wouldn’t approve, which was only more reason to do it. But if he took it off now, he really wouldn’t want to put it back on after he was done with his suicides and covered in sweat.

“Hey,” Eugene said, taking up one corner of his poor, ragged shirt and offering it to Jesse. “Hold this.”

Surprisingly, Jesse did. Without so much as a fight. Too confused at the request to be difficult about it, Eugene guessed. With a little bit of work, Eugene managed to tie the two sides of his shirt together so it stretched tight over his chest. At least now it wouldn’t flap around.

“You look stupid,” Jesse said when Eugene finished with his double-knot and stood up.

“Yeah,” Eugene agreed, “stupid sexy.” He hit Jesse with a single finger gun and a wink, cackling at Jesse’s expression.

“Just get this over with.”

Running suicides was hell. Running suicides while pulling an indignant Jesse Coste perched on a scooter by his arm was the highest form of hell. Each time Eugene stopped a sprint, the scooter went hurtling onward with momentum and jerked his arm before stopping and bungeeing back. And, each time this happened, Jesse complained loudly about how it jerked his arm too.

“Ouch!” Jesse screamed, only seven suicides in. “You ran over my fingers!”

“You’re the one on the scooter! How is it my fault if you managed to run over your own fucking fingers?”

Jesse glared at Eugene for yelling at him. Then he unfurled his legs, sticking them out in front of him and planting them against the polished wooden floor.

“You’ll ruins your sneakers if you do that,” Eugene said, unimpressed.

“I don’t care.”

“You monster.”

Eugene and Jesse screeched across the floor for another fifteen minutes before Coach took pity and called them in.

“Who said I never get you anything?” She asked, taking back the scooter. “You’re off the hook, consider your offense paid in full. I’d tell you not to pull this stunt again but it’s a literal impossibility for you to ruin another match in this particular way. Let’s just hope the kids learned from your mistake, shall we?”

‘The kids’ meaning Nick and Seiji. Eugene didn’t think there was ever much danger of Seiji causing this kind of commotion. And Nick had something of a grudge against soulmates so it wasn’t likely from him either. After this whole debacle, it was only reinforcing what was already sure. Both kids would make damn sure to keep their hands to themselves before any matches.

“Don’t come near me,” Jesse said, edging as far away from Eugene as he could. “You’re sweaty. It’s disgusting.”

“Aw, you don’t want a hug?” Eugene asked, reeling Jesse in by their joint arms and making like he wanted to hug him.

“Eugene, stop bullying him,” Bobby chided, pulling Eugene’s raised arm back down, unconcerned by the sweat.

“See?” Eugene said triumphantly to Jesse. “I told you Bobby’s the sweetest. He’s even gone and saved you from my hugs.”

“From your _sweat,”_ Bobby corrected, turning to whisper conspiratorially in Jesse’s ear. “Eugene gives just about the best hugs in the world, you should definitely try to get one after he’s showered.”

Jesse went pink and Bobby skipped away happily, pigtails bobbing delightfully.

When Coach Williams returned from putting the butt scooter away, practice started. Eugene stuck entirely to the sidelines and watched his team, talking with his coaches about strategy and miscellaneous notes. The team was in high spirits today. Thanks to Eugene and Jesse’s untimely soulbind, they’d dodged a bullet of getting crushed right off. Depending on how things shook out in the scheduling, they might not even have to face Exton until later in the season. Perhaps far enough down the road that they could figure out some key problems in their fencing and teamwork and have a chance at beating the preppy team.

If they could just iron out Nick and Seiji’s reactions whenever Jesse came into the picture, they’d increase their chances significantly. Today, all three boys were fencing their best. Probably a side-effect of having Jesse, captain of their biggest rival team, watching in on them. If only top-notch fencing was the usual effect Jesse had on team dynamics.

Eugene didn’t say any of that aloud. Nor did Williams. They were both thinking it but saying it in front of Jesse wasn’t the thing to do. They focused on other stuff, ran the team through drills and sequences. They even fenced a couple of bouts, rotating the odd man out to be the director. It was helpful to have everyone see bouts through the eyes of a director so they understood what directors were watching for. It was an outside perspective on the match that they didn’t often consider and one that helped them improve when they were the one inside it again.

“Alright, team,” Eugene called when practice was over, beckoning them all in. “Good work today, we’re looking great. Thanks for bearing with me through this weirdness,” a raise of his pilfered hand, “I really appreciate you lot being flexible about it all. I think we’re gonna kick some ass at our next match and I promise I won’t be shaking anymore hands without my glove on.” They all laughed at that. It didn’t matter anymore if he touched skin. He’d already found the only skin his would ever stick to, pale and easily pinked and belonging to the lovely—but annoying—Jesse Coste. “Really, you guys are awesome, I couldn’t ask for a better team. Now run along and enjoy yourselves, I’ll see you all tomorrow for some real work.”

“Thanks, Eugene!” Bobby chirped, scampering off to the locker room at a nod from Eugene. The other two followed suit, thanking him and heading to hit the showers. Eugene knew he also needed to hit the showers, but he figured he’d do that in his room because of the Jesse complication. He finished up some business with Williams about the practice schedule for the week before finally leaving to go back to his dorm, where he and Jesse would spend the rest of their bond.

“I can’t believe that they actually listened to you while you were wearing _that,”_ Jesse said incredulously when they were outside and alone. Eugene looked down at his tight, midriff-bearing top with the slit sleeve and chunky knot at his ribcage. He shrugged.

“Would your team _not_ listen to you if you showed up in a crop top? Which, by the way, would look way better than the frumpy clown look you’ve got going at the moment..”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Appearance goes a long way in earning respect. I’m surprised at how much of it your team has for you, that’s all.”

“That sounded like a compliment,” Eugene said. “A backhanded one, but it sounds like you think I’m a good captain.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I think you did. In your own special way.”

“It’s impressive that you can get Seiji Katayama to listen to anything you say, least of all when you look like a stripper, that’s all.”

“I’d be bomb at bachelorette parties,” Eugene agreed, momentarily distracted by the idea. “But Seiji’s not so hard to handle, I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

“He’s only ‘not so hard to handle’ because he likes you. I wanted him on my team but when he came to Kings Row instead—honestly, I sometimes think it’s for the best. He’s only an asset if you can make him fall into line and it’s been years since he’s even _listened_ to me.”

Eugene glanced over at Jesse, hair rustling in the wind, looking obscenely perfect. His face was set and stubborn. Against teasing, maybe. Or wheedling. But Eugene didn’t tease or wheedle. He just took the compliment he knew Jesse had given him without making a big deal of it. Jesse Coste admitting not only that he thought Eugene was a good captain, but that he’d achieved something Jesse didn’t think he himself could have in blending Seiji into the team? That was pretty incredible, even if Eugene really couldn’t take much credit for Seiji’s cooperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> butt scooters are fun but dangerous contraptions


	11. Chapter 11

Eugene tugged the knot of his shirt free and shucked it off, slam-dunking it into the laundry basket. With a stop at the wardrobe for fresh clothes, he was ready to take a shower.

“Don’t take a long time,” Jesse said, eyes already tightly shut. Eugene’s pants were still on so all Jesse was achieving in this was some extra stumbling across the bathroom tiles. “I don’t want to be standing here forever.”

“I’ll be as quick as I possibly can be,” Eugene assured, reaching in to turn on the water. “Here’s your warning: I’m officially getting undressed.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me go through this,” Jesse grumbled, his free hand doubling his blindness as he lifted it to cover his shut eyes. “I knew we should have skipped your dumb practice.”

“You’re not going through much of anything,” Eugene objected, stepping into the water. His arm was hanging out of the shower, holding open the curtain plenty enough that Eugene could see Jesse. He looked entirely out of his element in this bathroom. “You even got out of taking a shower.”

“You peeked last night when I told you not to.”

“That’s different. If it really bugs you, and I see now that it does, I would have let you shower in peace.”

“Whatever. Concentrate on showering so you can get dressed again, this is too weird.”

Eugene had his dominant hand at his disposal but moving around with his other arm indisposed and locking him relatively in one spot slowed down the process of washing. Eventually, there wasn’t anything left to do but wash up his remaining arm. He pulled it into the shower to soap it down but almost lost his footing instead when Jesse screamed and yanked away.

“What are you doing?” He asked, still at a volume that counted as screaming.

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to join me in the shower,” Eugene said in a flat tone that told Jesse how unimpressed he was with the screaming. “And you’re obviously trying to murder me, Jesus Christ. I almost fell because of you, dipshit. I just needed my arm.”

“You shouldn’t have pulled me like that without warning.”

“Are you warned now?”

“Yes. You can have your arm.”

“Thanks, that’s real sweet of you.” Eugene pulled his arm into the shower, consequently getting Jesse’s hand and forearm in his washing as well. “And,” Eugene said, poking his head out of the curtain to grin at Jesse, “I hope you’re enjoying your view.”

Jesse gasped, clapping his hand over his eyes again. Eyes that had been open since their little scare.

“I didn’t—!” Jesse said frantically, heating up like he’d been in a sauna for hours. “I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t looking.”

“Right, sure. I believe that completely. Peeper.”

“It’s the truth! It’s your fault for pulling me like that!”

“You say that but you’re way too red to be innocent.”

“It’s hot in here from the steam,” Jesse tried.

“Pathetic. Just admit it, you couldn’t resist a look,” Eugene teased as he finished off his shower, rinsing out the last vestiges of conditioner before turning off the tap.

“I didn’t peek on purpose and I didn’t really see anything,” Jesse protested fiercely. “It’s not like I haven’t been staring at your naked chest this whole bind anyway.”

“You have, have you?”

Eugene secured a towel around his waist and stepped from the shower, even more amused by this new confession than Jesse’s accidentally opened eyes.

“That’s not how I meant it and you know it. I just meant that you haven’t worn a shirt in a real way since yesterday and—and so it’s not like I saw anything new.”

“If I were a brat, I’d point out that it’s still unfair and make you take off your pants too to even it up. But, lucky for you, I am a reasonable person. In fact, I’m so reasonable that I will even put _my_ pants on right away.”

“I appreciate it,” Jesse mumbled into his hand.

“You should.” It really was harder to do things with one hand but Eugene managed to get into his pants quickly, just as promised. “Okay, all clear. You can open your eyes.”

“Your hair’s still wet,” Jesse said first thing upon opening his eyes and seeing Eugene. “It’s dripping on your shoulders.”

“It’s fine, I’m not putting on a shirt anyway so there’s nothing to get wet.”

Jesse grabbed the clean towel off the rack and sloppily plopped it on Eugene’s head, surprising him further by scrubbing the towel through his hair himself.

“Nothing to get wet but me,” Jesse groused. “I’m close enough to you to get dripped on.”

“Eighteen and getting my hair dried like a kid,” Eugene laughed, swatting Jesse’s hand away and finishing the job. “What would the guys think?”

“Nothing worse than they already do, I’d wager.”

“I thought you were just saying you were impressed with how much they respect me.”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

Eugene pulled the towel off his head and discarded it, getting an eyeful of Jesse’s petulant expression. Petulance and…was that a hint of embarrassment in there too? Looked like it. Eugene couldn’t help himself from reaching out and floofing Jesse’s hair.

“Thanks for fixing up my hair so it can look as pretty as yours.”

“That’s an impossible goal,” Jesse said, recovering from his brief surprise at the touch. “But we can try to tame that bedhead into something more fashionable.” Jesse spent a moment rearranging Eugene’s damp hair, dropping his hand to examine his work and deeming it worthy. “I believe I was promised a relaxing day in bed after all the excitement of this morning.”

“Also lucky for you, I have a better memory than you so I actually remember saying that. Yeah, let’s get to some binge-watching.”

Jesse was full of surprises today. He shed his shirt again before following Eugene onto the bed.

“It feels breezy and weird on one side,” Jesse defended when he saw Eugene watching him. “It was uneven.”

Eugene wrestled his yellow blanket out of the mess they’d left on the bed and pulled it over them. Jesse scooted in close to see the computer Eugene opened, and it actually felt peaceful and nice, their hands resting between them.

After two episodes, Jesse started to shift around. Eugene kept waiting for the complaints and demands to follow but they never did.

“Are you hungry?” Eugene asked nonchalantly.

“No.”

“I’ve heard that one before. If you’re hungry, we should go get lunch.”

“I’m not,” Jesse repeated. “Seriously, I’m not. I’ve had enough trips to your cafeteria to last me forever.”

“It’s only a couple hours before we should be free,” Eugene said with a glance at his clock. “We could get properly dressed and get a bite to eat then.”

“That still doesn’t solve the problem of the cafeteria food.”

“I wasn’t going to take you back to the cafeteria,” Eugene told him. The caf would be closed by then, even if Eugene had thought bringing Jesse back there for a late lunch was a good idea. Jesse’s expression made him wonder why he’d thought a late lunch together was a good idea at all. “But I guess you could easily get something to eat on your way back to school, so never mind.”

“No,” Jesse objected quickly, overlapping with the last of Eugene’s words. “Lunch after the bond finishes sounds good. My coach won’t stop anywhere fun and it would be hours until dinner,” he explained when Eugene was caught staring at him.

“Cool,” he said with the beginnings of a smile. “I’ll plan on taking you somewhere fun.”

Jesse couldn’t fool Eugene with his lame excuse about Alessandra and Exton’s dinner hours. Not completely. He’d spoken too fast for that to be all. It was possible Jesse was warming to him the tiniest bit.

Jesse’s fidgeting continued and Eugene would have been impressed with his determination to keep his complaints to himself for once if Eugene wasn’t also bothered by the fidgeting. It wasn’t the movement so much as the obvious discomfort that bugged him.

“You should tell me what’s wrong so we can solve it,” Eugene finally gave in and said. “Or is this going to be another waffle situation?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just that we’ve been sitting like this for ages and I can’t get comfortable.”

“Your back?” Eugene asked and got a nod in return. “Why not use that pillow to help you with that?”

Jesse was once again curled around Eugene’s pillow, putting it to absolutely no discernible use. But he shook his head and shifted the pillow in his arm, hunching over to rest his chin on the top of it.

“A convincing argument,” Eugene agreed with over-the-top impressed nodding. Jesse twitched their hands, sending them bonking against Eugene’s leg. “We could try moving positions,” he offered.

“There’s not really anything else to do except for…”

“Yeah, but we could. If you want, I don’t really mind. It’d be hard to watch our show but that’s whatever.”

Jesse stayed silent on the subject so Eugene took it as a no, pressing play again and perfectly comfortable as he was. The threat of snuggling must have scared Jesse into sitting still because his fidgeting stopped. At least that’s what Eugene thought until Jesse started inching closer, so slowly he didn’t notice until Jesse’s head was resting on his shoulder.

“Better?” Eugene asked, going ahead and wrapping his right arm around Jesse’s hips to pull them closer too. There was no way that big of a lean had been comfortable.

“It’ll do.”

Eugene let it go without any teasing. Only because he thought that might make Jesse sit up properly again out of spite or launch into a fit. And this was so much better.

It was another hour before Jesse moved substantially again, hand falling over Eugene’s on the keyboard to stop him from clicking to the next episode.

“Bored?”

“Tired.” To prove it, Jesse yawned.

“That would explain why you’ve been so manageable,” Eugene couldn’t help but say.

Jesse closed the laptop on his fingers.

“I’ll show you manageable,” he mumbled ominously.

“Bro, you’ve shown me exactly how _manageable_ you can be. Don’t think I have anything left to be afraid of at this point.”

Jesse turned his head into Eugene’s shoulder and bit, startling a laugh from Eugene from the unexpected—and unexpectedly gentle—nip.

“Careful,” Eugene said when he was capable of speech again. He leaned slightly to put his computer away; Jesse stayed attached to him at two points of contact instead of just the one, hand to hand and mouth to shoulder. “That’s a real strange place for a hickey to pop up.”

Jesse was evidently torn between biting harder in revenge and giving up on the endeavor because there would be no question who was leaving hickeys on Eugene’s delt. He decided to give it up, pulling back from Eugene to sit up and stretch his back in an arch, his single available arm reaching above his head.

“Timber!” Eugene yelled, taking advantage of the perfect arch in Jesse’s back to grab him, his yawn turning into an abrupt gasp as Eugene pulled him down onto the bed. A hand pounded against his chest in protest.

“Is it all those brothers that made you so prone to manhandling and roughhousing?” Jesse asked, face up close and personal, accusations alight in his eyes. But he didn’t move to get back up or roll off of Eugene.

“Maybe. Luna’s not innocent of contributing to that, though. Just so you know. Sisters are brutal.”

“And you’re a brute. I’ve never been—been—been _thrown_ around so much in my life.”

“Oh yeah? Better get used to it, then.”

“Or you could stop throwing me around so much.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You won’t.”

“Probably not, no,” Eugene admitted. “But you’re sleepy because my clock kept you up so late and I dragged you out of bed early despite your late night. Take a nap.”

“I don’t want a nap.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Jesse held Eugene’s eye stubbornly. But Eugene won. Jesse sighed and broke eye contact to set his head down on Eugene’s chest. For his part, Eugene patted around the mattress until he found the pillow to stuff under his head. He was about to do another pat-down for his phone when Jesse put an end to that idea with one of his own.

“Play with my hair like you did last night.” Jesse’s request was only considered because it was asked in a quiet, almost sheepish voice instead of belted out like a demand.

Eugene looked at the clock. It was 2:14 now. He could survive an hour without anything to do but chill. So he did as requested, working fingers through Jesse’s fine hair and scratching his head just so.

“Thanks for letting me go to my team practice today,” Eugene said. It was pretty cool of Jesse to have let him. Plenty of people didn’t like to be seen at all during their bind. Going to the cafeteria for food was one thing, but two hours with someone else’s team? That wasn’t something a good deal of people would have been comfortable with.

“Thanks for not making me run suicides,” Jesse returned. “Or take showers.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And so are you.”

Jesse’s weight felt comfortable on him and the repetitive movement of his hand playing through Jesse’s hair was as relaxing as the quiet and their synced-up breathing. Eugene’s mind wandered, picking over today’s practice, and yesterday’s almost-match. He wondered again how he could get his two youngest teammates to behave themselves and work their shit out enough to allow them to get to State. To take it, preferably. It was a question Coach Williams and Harvard had mulled over last year and never figured out. This year, it was his job. He just had to get them properly working together. United. Even in the face of Jesse.

Eugene lost track of time and his fingers while thinking over new angles to try and strategies to employ. When his mind came back to reality and his eyes came back into focus, he found that his hand was trailing up and down Jesse’s back, warm and broad beneath his fingers. Since he hadn’t been told off for the relocation from hair to spine, he let his hand rest at the small of Jesse’s back for a moment, turning his head over to peek at his digital clock.

“Jesse?” Eugene asked, bumping his shoulder up lightly.

“Hm? What?” Jesse asked, pulling out of a light doze.

“I think it’s about time for our bind to finish up.”

Jesse jumped into action, bolting up from his lounging position and swinging a leg over Eugene to sit atop him. Eugene let out an _oof_ at the sudden redistribution of weight. Now that he was at a better angle to see the clock, Jesse examined it very closely. Then he got his phone and checked the time there too.

“Three thirty-seven,” Jesse said carefully, like he was trying to engrave the words in his mind as he spoke them.

“Should we try this?” Eugene asked, wrestling up into a sitting position. Jesse didn’t make it easy for him, sliding down into his lap instead of astride his hips like he’d sat before, but not bothering to adjust his weight or get off Eugene so he could sit up more easily.

“Yes.”

Their hands were held between them, Eugene’s slightly tingly from the edge of falling asleep. It didn’t feel different other than that. He still just felt like he was holding Jesse’s hand. But, when he asked his fingers to unfurl, they did. Jesse’s hand slipped out of his and Eugene stared at his empty palm, bringing it up to look at while flexing his fingers, making sure they really did mean to listen to him again. When he looked up, Jesse was doing the same.

“Guess this is it, then,” Eugene told him, “we’re free.”

“Guess so,” Jesse echoed distantly.

“Three thirty-seven, we’ll say. For the official start and stop time of our Soul Day.”

“I can’t believe I stopped paying attention,” Jesse bemoaned, letting his hand drop. Eugene mirrored the motion without meaning to, too used to Jesse’s movements dictating his own. “I wanted it exactly but I stopped paying attention. One chance and now it’s wrong forever.”

“Nah, come on, it’s better this way,” Eugene said, chucking Jesse’s shoulder with his left hand just because he could. He looked seriously put out over this. “You said yourself it’s not very romantic to spend your bind checking the clock constantly, right? Three thirty-seven’s close enough. We only missed the exact second because we were too busy snuggling to notice.”

“I was only snuggling because there wasn’t a more comfortable way to be,” Jesse said, but not before a long pause as he considered Eugene’s point and not without a little smile as he delivered the reminder.

“I know,” Eugene said with a matching smile.

What was strange to Eugene was how he had spent so much time at the beginning of their soulbind trying to get unstuck but he’d somehow gone long enough today without even trying to peel his hand away from Jesse’s to notice that he could. It had started to feel natural. As natural as a hand-shaking grip could be. But it had felt like a choice, like he’d meant for his fingers to be holding tight. And, now that they weren’t, there was a weird melancholy to his empty hand. Nobody had mentioned that part of the binding process. He hoped it would go away soon.


	12. Chapter 12

Jesse came out of the bathroom looking entirely disgruntled.

“None of your jeans fit me right.”

“Are we surprised?” Eugene asked, grinning at the yellow sweats Jesse was still in, three different pairs of jeans folded over his arm, which he pushed back onto Eugene with a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t look at all presentable for going out.”

“You look fine. Let’s get to it, your coach will be expecting a call for rescue soon.”

“I don’t have many options, I suppose. Fine, let’s go.” Jesse said, slipping his phone into his pocket and pulling on his sneakers again. Eugene was already set to go, changed into jeans and a proper shirt and some Adidas instead of fencing sneakers.

“After you,” Eugene said as Jesse waltzed right past him after he’d opened the door.

“You’re not making me take the bus, are you?” Jesse asked, plainly horrified when Eugene sat on the stone wall a short walk from Kings Row, a bus stop planted by the curb.

“We could walk if you’d rather,” Eugene offered. Jesse sat down.

“I can’t believe I’m going on a date in _sweatpants_ and my fencing shoes. And a graphic tee. I look like a slob. And to top it off, it’s starting at a _bus stop.”_

Jesse finished listing off his complaints but Eugene didn’t counter any of them. His mind had snagged on the use of the word _date_ and his eyebrows were still raised in disbelief, but Jesse hadn’t noticed. _Leave it to Jesse to decide I was asking him out_. Eugene hadn’t meant to. He’d only been offering a lunch outing, but Jesse had obviously jumped to conclusions. It wasn’t as if Eugene really minded this change in plans, it was that he hadn’t expected it at all. Just over twenty-four hours ago, Jesse had sneered at being stuck with Eugene. He was still sneering, but over all the ways his date was off to an imperfect start instead of over who the date was with.

“I expected a longer turn-around rate,” Eugene mused aloud. Jesse shot him a quizzical look, not understanding what he meant. Eugene decided to save teasing over Jesse’s assumption that Eugene had meant to ask him out when inviting him to lunch for later. When Jesse was more likely to tolerate being teased like that. For now, he entertained himself with teasing of a different sort. “And I think you look cute. Cozy chic.”

Jesse fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as if it didn’t fit properly. It did. Different than it fit on Eugene but it looked good anyway. A little loose in a way that accentuated his collarbones and teased at what it hid beneath its folds. It was possible that it even looked better on Jesse than it ever had on Eugene.

“What bus are we waiting for?”

“The red.”

“The red?”

“Yeah, the red line bus.”

“The busses are identified by…colors?”

“Yup.”

“Your town is stupid.”

Eugene laughed, knocking a knee into Jesse.

“On that, we agree. This town is all sorts of weird but I don’t live here, I just go to school here.”

“Is that it?” Jesse asked, pointing to a bus rounding the corner.

“That’s the one.”

“But it’s not even red! It just says ‘RED,’ that’s even stupider than I thought.”

“Just wait until it changes colors mid-route with no warning,” Eugene told him, launching off the wall and taking Jesse’s hand to pull him off too.

“That happens?” Jesse asked with suspicion, clearly not sure if Eugene was to be trusted. He learned fast.

“No joke, it happens all the time. You gotta build in an extra hour to get lost on bus adventures if you wanna go anywhere.”

“That doesn’t sound real,” Jesse mumbled, but Eugene just laughed and pulled him to the back of the bus. Jesse fit himself against the wall again but this time it didn’t make Eugene’s life any harder. “Why didn’t you go home for your birthday?” Jesse asked a couple of minutes into their bus adventure.

“Huh?”

“Your mom invited me to your birthday party next weekend. Why wasn’t it this weekend instead? On your actual birthday?”

“Jesus Christ are we lucky it wasn’t, being soulstuck at home woulda been something, that’s for sure.”

“It’s because you knew you’d lose and you wanted a day to mourn your loss, isn’t it?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking. But next week Lolo and Lola are visiting so the party was postponed until then. I’m going home for a couple hours tonight, though, Mom insisted.”

He didn’t mention that he’d been supposed to go home right after practice. Jesse had slowed down the day a bit but there was no reason to point it out when Eugene had slowed it down even more with this outing.

“It wouldn’t be a proper party without Lolo and Lola,” Jesse agreed seriously. “Crocheting is at the heart of every good party.”

“Damn straight.”

Jesse leaned back against his window and seemed content to watch out the opposite one behind Eugene’s back. Eugene was happy to let him. He had to reach over Jesse to pull the wire for their stop, blond hair tickling against his cheek as he leaned in.

“You smell nice,” Jesse surprised him by saying.

“Thanks,” Eugene said, sitting back properly to wait for the bus to arrive at the stop. Jesse picked up on Eugene’s bafflement and blushed slightly. “I took a shower.”

“I know,” Jesse said, then a nervous laugh bubbled out of him. And another. “I was there,” he squeezed out before another giggle.

“I see that you’ve finally cracked,” Eugene observed.

It was contagious. As Jesse laughed, Eugene couldn’t help but think that their whole bind was a gold mine of comedy. Jesse standing with his eyes resolutely shut while Eugene showered, holding his hand? Hilarious.

The bus’s doors sprang open as it jolted to a stop. When Eugene stood, he realized that his hand was holding Jesse’s. He’d never dropped it. There was no point to dropping it now so Eugene folded his arm behind him and slid through the aisle, Jesse pulled along after him as he thanked the bus driver and hopped out of the bus, starting on his way to the restaurant.

“You should know,” Jesse said skeptically as they arrived, tugging Eugene to a stop before he could open the door. “I’m a picky eater.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Eugene asked with a laugh, tugging Jesse into motion again. “You’ll like it, I’ll order you something good.”

Jesse was reluctant and possibly regretting his decision to agree to this late lunch—this _date—_ right about now. But he let Eugene sit him down at a table and order their food. Eugene got a variety, just to have all his bases covered. Jesse, however, was even more dubious when Eugene reached across the table to steal a bite of the ginataang langka in front of him.

“Sharing is caring,” Eugene told Jesse’s unimpressed face. That face was equally unimpressed with Eugene’s manners and his choice of restaurant. “Come on, try it. If you hate it, we can go somewhere else.”

“I told you,” Jesse said sulkily, “I’m picky.”

And Eugene had backed him into a corner. But he didn’t feel bad about it.

“You don’t know that you won’t like it unless you try it. And trust me, you’re gonna be seeing a lot of Filipino food since we’re soulmates. Better to find out now if you like it or hate it.”

“That’s not fair,” Jesse complained. One of his favorite phrases, Eugene had discovered. “There’s tons of dishes that count under that and you’ll make me try all of them with that logic.”

“Yup.” He paused his eating to grin at Jesse, broad and bright as he could. “Come on, it’s my birthday. You’re not going to turn down my birthday request, are you?”

“You’ve had tons of birthday requests already.”

“And did you listen to literally any of them?”

Jesse thought it over. He was stumped. With a surly frown, he picked up his fork and prodded at his food doubtfully.

“I guess not. Fine. I’ll try it. But you can’t be mad when I don’t like it.”

 _“If_ you don’t like it.”

Jesse eyed his fork suspiciously its entire way to his mouth. Then he eyed Eugene suspiciously once the food was no longer available to receive his suspicion. Eugene watched him chew and tried not to laugh.

“It’s not my least favorite thing I’ve ever had to eat,” Jesse said after he swallowed.

“But it’s not your favorite,” Eugene finished the thought for him. “That’s fine. Try something else, you’ve got options.”

Jesse, of course, pointed his fork at the bowl in front of Eugene.

“That doesn’t look terrible.”

“This,” Eugene said, brandishing a spoonful before popping it in his mouth, “is arroz caldo and it’s my favorite.”

“Sharing is caring.”

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you? But I’m great at sharing.” Eugene pushed his bowl down the table a little. “Help yourself.”

It clearly wasn’t the reaction Jesse had been hoping for, which made Eugene certain that Jesse enjoyed himself by requesting preposterous things and seeing which requests would be granted. Eugene was finding that he kind of enjoyed watching Jesse’s reactions to both requests granted and denied. He was surprised to see Jesse actually lean across the table to fill a spoon of his own—Eugene had expected him to be squeamish about germs, but he wasn’t. Lucky for Eugene, he wasn’t either, because Jesse wasn’t satisfied with just one bite.

“I told you you’d like it here,” Eugene said, leaning in across the table to grin in Jesse’s face. Jesse stomped on his foot under the table but didn’t acknowledge the boast any more than that.

* * *

“Goodbye, I guess,” Jesse said, shifting weight subtly back and forth from foot to foot as he and Eugene stood in front of Alessandra’s car.

“Come on, Jesse,” she called impatiently, “you’ve already taken your time. Let’s get back to school.”

“She doesn’t seem happy about our little excursion,” Eugene commented, quiet enough that only Jesse would be able to hear.

“Our little excursion turned into a three-hour excursion,” Jesse muttered back, eyes flicking over to his coach. “And she’s not happy. If she had ridiculous rituals like your coach, she’d saddle me with suicides for three hours in revenge for wasting her entire day to come fetch me.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Yeah.”

Jesse took a step that started him turning but before even completing the rotation, he pivoted back to Eugene and took the couple of steps that spanned between them with an awkward determination. Jesse’s arms fit around Eugene’s neck with that same awkward determination. But when Eugene returned the hug, pulling Jesse hard against him and squeezing him just tight enough to feel it, Jesse relaxed.

“What’s all this for?” Eugene asked into his ear.

“It’s your birthday,” Jesse said. “And I just thought I should say, well…happy birthday, Eugene.”

Jesse had already said happy birthday to him. Had been the first, in fact, to wish him one. But the reiteration made Eugene smile into Jesse’s shoulder just a little.

“Thanks, Jesse.”

Alessandra cleared her throat in much the same way Coach Williams had whenever Aiden had gotten too handsy with boys during practice. The two of them weren’t entirely dissimilar. Maybe that was why Williams disliked her so much.

Jesse pulled away, blushing from the warning he’d been issued. And then he was gone.

Eugene returned to his room, alone for the first time in over a full day. A torn and tattered shirt remained on his floor. Eugene’s was already in the laundry basket—he should really have slam-dunked it into the trash, but too late now. This shirt didn’t belong to him. He picked it up and turned it over, then pulled out his phone, meaning to text Jesse that he’d forgotten something with a cheeky emoji to accompany the message. But then he realized that he’d never texted Jesse. Never spoken to him before yesterday in a sustainable way. And never gotten his number while they were stuck together because there’d been no need for it at the time.


	13. Chapter 13

“Is your pretty boy soulmate coming to the party, Gene?” Luna asked.

Eugene glanced over at his sister from the couch. She’d tired of their _Super Smash Bros_ tournaments and was now sitting deep in her favorite armchair, phone out and eyes glued to it. That was the great thing about Luna. Even when she was asking you questions, she made you feel like not only was she bored by the idea of an answer, but she’d rather chew glass than hear it. Eugene missed her so much when he was away at school.

“Uh,” he said, turning back to the game before Marcus stabbed him, “no. I don’t think so.”

“No?” Mom poked her head into the living room. Her hearing was too good. “Did he tell you he couldn’t make it?”

“Not exactly.”

“Eugene Labao, if you uninvited him…” Mom said warningly, leaving the rest for him to fill out however he saw fit.

“I didn’t.”

Mom didn’t look convinced when Eugene dared look away from the screen again to sneak a peek at her. He laughed at her disapproving frown.

“You think I couldn’t stand him,” Eugene hooted in delight. Mom liked everyone. But he got a kick out of her thinking _he_ wouldn’t like Jesse. It was like she was admitting he was trouble. “You think he was such a brat that I sent him on his way when the bind finished, down one party invitation.”

“Eugene.”

“I didn’t! I did not uninvite him,” Eugene assured her. “It’s not the invitation he was down, anyway,” he added in a mutter to himself, thinking of Jesse’s tattered shirt. He’d also found the matching destroyed jacket and plastron under his bed, where they must have gotten kicked during the bed-making scuffle. Mom’s hearing was good, but not _that_ good. Luna heard him though. With an almost interested cursory glance at him, she nodded.

“That’s what I thought,” Luna said. “He’s really quite pretty. And you’re so predictable, Gene.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Eugene protested. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What else could you have meant?” Luna challenged and Eugene struggled to come up with a simple answer.

“What did Gene mean?” Fritz asked.

“Nothing,” Eugene said firmly.

“He means,” Luna explained, coaxed out of her phone, “that after spending a couple hours chained to—what’s his name? Jesse? Gene liked him _just_ fine after all.”

Junior snickered. Eugene chucked a pillow at Luna.

“Actually, I meant that he cut himself out of his fencing jacket and left me with the clean-up.”

“You’re not helping your case.” Luna said it in a matter-of-fact way like she was the older sibling giving him some sage-like advice. He spared a hand to flip her off. Mistake. When the pillow was returned to him, it knocked the controller out of his hand.

“Fu—!” Eugene said, watching Marcus punt him off the edge of the level. “You just lost me the match, Lunatic.”

“Woah!” Fritz scrambled off the couch to press his nose against the window. “Look at that car!”

They all did. Eugene didn’t expect to be impressed by whatever rental Lolo and Lola had gotten, but it wasn’t a rental that was pulling into their driveway. And it wasn’t his old Lolo behind the wheel.

“Jesse?” Eugene said in the same way he might say _Mothman?_ if he’d found the cryptid at his cousin’s wedding.

“I thought you said he wasn’t coming,” Junior accused.

“I didn’t think he was. How is he here?” Eugene asked, knowing well enough to address the question to his mother.

“I sent him an invitation, of course,” Mom said with fond exasperation. “What do you mean _how is he here?_ Really, Gene.”

“I just didn’t expect him to come. I forgot to get his number.”

All his siblings laughed at that, except Fritz, who was still loyal to Eugene.

“Real smooth moves, bro,” Junior chortled.

“You shut up.”

“It’s lucky I thought to take care of the details,” Mom said, ushering Eugene to the door. “You can get his number today. Now, go greet him. It’s the least you can do.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Eugene relented with a laugh of his own. “I’ll go redeem myself as a soulmate, jeez.”

Eugene walked out onto the driveway in bare feet since there wasn’t snow on the ground. Jesse startled at the noise of the front door opening as he was getting out of his outrageously fancy car. It had to cost more than Eugene’s tuition for all four years at Kings Row.

“You’re here,” Eugene said. Jesse was taken by a brief insecurity, then his eyes set in resolve and his chin tipped up in typical haughty confidence.

“I was invited.”

“So I’ve heard,” Eugene said lightly, jokingly. “Well, close up your Transformer and let’s go inside.”

“Just a moment,” Jesse said, ducking back under the wing of his car door and reaching into the car. He re-emerged with a package neatly wrapped in layers of golden tissue paper and topped off with a bright yellow bow.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” Eugene felt strangely undone at the sight of the little parcel. He hadn’t expected it.

“Bullshit,” Jesse said, prodding the package at Eugene. When it was out of his hands, Jesse turned to close his car, a flush at the back of his neck just visible. “It’s your birthday. And it’s nothing, really.”

The tissue paper crinkled pleasantly under Eugene’s fingers as he pressed them into it. It was squishy and only shaped in a square because it had been wrapped that way.

“What are you doing?” Jesse demanded as Eugene tore into the paper. “You can’t just open that right now in your driveway!”

“Oh? Why not?” Eugene’s suggestive tone got a proper flush out of Jesse.

“Because isn’t there supposed to be dinner and cake before presents? You can’t do things out of order.”

“Bullshit. It’s my birthday and I’ll open my presents how I want to.”

Jesse’s mouth twitched in irritation but he didn’t try to stop Eugene, so he relieved the bundle of the rest of its wrappings. Eugene laughed as he shook out the white cloth underneath and found a shirt, plain and white and short-sleeved. A perfect match for the one Jesse had clumsily cut through a week ago. There was a small stack of them, another t-shirt and two long-sleeved athletic shirts, also white. He collected them all in his hand with the tissue paper and clapped the back of Jesse’s neck fondly, still laughing. He led him like that up the driveway.

“This is going to be hard to beat,” Eugene said, which only made Jesse duck his head.

“They’re only shirts,” Jesse mumbled.

“They’re perfect.”

And they were. From Jesse, it was the perfect gift. A sweet thought and a good laugh and a practical use all in one.

Jesse charmed Mom from the moment he stepped in the door, thanking her for the invitation. Eugene didn’t mind and Mom seemed happy. She always was with guests. But she sighed when her eyes flicked over him.

“Gene,” she said scoldingly, “you know presents are after cake.”

Eugene shoved the golden paper into his back pocket as if he expected that to hide it or even particularly felt like hiding it.

“That’s what I said.” Jesse was nodding gravely along with Eugene’s mother and it spurred Eugene to smile again. This was all absurd. But not in a terrible way. Just in an absurd way.

“It’s my birthday,” Eugene repeated to them what he’d told Jesse already. “And you two can bond over your disapproval of my illegal present opening while I put it away in my room.”

But Jesse followed him when he tried sliding behind him to get on his way.

“Leave the door open,” Luna droned as they went past. Eugene dipped a finger under the headphones she wore and kept on strolling, taking the headphones with him, the cord yanking at her phone. “Gene!”

“I’m taking these hostage,” Eugene said, pulling them around his neck, cord trailing behind him, having come unplugged from the phone clutched in Luna’s hands.

“You’re—ugh! Give them back!”

“Nope.”

Eugene closed his door on his sister’s continued shrieks. He locked it too.

“To keep out demonic little girls,” Eugene explained at Jesse’s curious expression.

“I was going to say,” Jesse commented idly, “that it’s a strange habit to lock the door to your room at home but not the one to your dorm room at school.”

“Maybe I’ve just learned my lesson with you.” Eugene tossed his new shirts on his bed, pulled out his crumpled wrapping paper and tossed it there as well for now. “Whenever I’ve got you in a room, I should lock it. To be safe.”

“I don’t foresee needing to cut myself out of my clothes tonight. We should be safe.”

“Should be.”

“Did your coach make you run more suicides to make up for the ones you missed last week?”

“No, Williams’ mercy stretched far enough to cover me even after I was free of my shackles.”

“Shackles?” Jesse asked, indignant.

“My very pretty shackles?”

“I’ll take it,” Jesse said after a hum of consideration. “For now. And only because we were basically handcuffed together so it’s a fitting metaphor. But I swear if you’re one of those people that sees relationships as a ball and chain—,”

“I don’t. But is that what this is? A relationship?”

“I—,”

“Eugene, I will take a Sharpie to your favorite sneakers while you sleep if you don’t give me back my headphones right now!” Luna hollered at the door. Eugene could hear a pin scraping against the locking mechanism.

Luna nearly fell in when Eugene whipped open the door before she could unlock it.

“That’s dangerous, little sis,” he said casually, catching the hand that darted to the headphones around his neck. “Never know what you’ll find behind locked doors.”

“Better to walk in on you kissing your boy than to risk you having birthday sex while wearing _my_ headphones.” She at least had the good sense to say that low enough that the boys couldn’t hear.

“We weren’t,” Jesse protested, but didn’t have the conviction to finish off the sentence to say what they _weren’t._

“We were just on our way out to join the party,” Eugene said, deliberately not looking at Jesse just yet. “And I said I’ve got your headphones in a hostage situation, which means you’ve got to pay ransom.”

“Eugene!”

“I think an ‘I love you’ would do the trick.”

“I hate you and I can’t wait for you to go back to school.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Luna stared at Eugene with steely eyes. He stared back, waiting.

“Fine.” Luna snapped her hands out of Eugene’s grip. “I love you, Gene, you’re the best big brother in the world. Now can I _please_ have my headphones back?”

Luna must have felt guilty for wishing him back to school. That was a way nicer trade than he’d asked for, even if it was spat out venomously.

“Of course, but only because you’re my favorite sister.”

Eugene looped the headphones around her neck and she turned, just like that. Well, she flipped him the finger behind her back too.

“Do you just bully people into liking you?” Jesse asked at his shoulder.

Now, Eugene turned to look at him. He was mostly composed, recovered enough from Luna’s crude accusation. Good. If he hadn’t been, Eugene might have had to push him back into the room and lock the door behind them. But this wasn’t the time or place for any of that so he ushered Jesse out of the room instead, closing the door with them on the outside of it.

“Bully people into liking me? That’s an oxymoron, bud.”

“Is not. You’ve got all sorts of friends. I wonder if you just stared them down with that amiable face of yours until they relented and decided to like you.”

“Amiable face? Do you think that’d really work?”

“Given my experience,” Jesse said primly, “I’m inclined to say yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to those of you with big brothers, do you have like...a go-to threat you use on them when they're being annoying? Mine is 'I will sneak into your room while you sleep and cover you and all your belongings in dish soap' (this is highly effective. he has a thing about soap). What's yours?


	14. Chapter 14

Lolo and Lola arrived not long after Jesse had, Lola smothering Eugene in kisses and remarks of how handsome he was. Lolo had hugs for him and trinkets for all of them, though Mom ferreted their birthday present for him away to the pile before Eugene could get his hands on it. But that was fine, he could wait to open their present until it was properly time to.

“And who’s this?” Lola asked, turning her smile on Jesse.

Mom gave Eugene a look. One that said she’d thought this was his business to tell so she hadn’t mentioned it to them. She was right.

Eugene reached a hand to snare Jesse, who was hanging back from the warm welcomes. With a little persuasion, Jesse stepped forward, taking up the empty space by Eugene’s side. The intentional press of skin in the gesture alone had both his grandparents raising their brows.

“This is Jesse,” Eugene said simply. “I found him at a fencing competition last week and had to bring him home, I just couldn’t seem to let go of him.”

“Ah,” Lolo said, “he’s your—?”

“Soulmate,” Eugene confirmed. “Jesse’s my soulmate.”

Lola demanded to be told the whole story of it with all the details, so they migrated to the sitting room and all found spots to sit. Eugene told the story. But, despite Lola’s instructions, he left out a lot of details. Some for the sake of Jesse’s pride and sensibilities. Some, like the quiet _happy birthday_ at midnight on the dot, he kept to himself because they were for him.

Jesse talked with Eugene’s parents and grandparents easily, sticking to the kitchen where they all migrated after Eugene’s story to leave the TV for the boys to play on. But whenever one of Eugene’s siblings popped their head in, Jesse regarded them with suspicion. That was his mistake. Eugene’s little brothers could smell fear.

“Stop being boring and come play with us,” Fritz requested on his latest venture into the kitchen, tugging at Eugene’s arm. “Your boyfriend can even have a controller, Junior says so.”

“Jesse,” Eugene reminded. “His name’s Jesse.”

“I know. But he’s being boring too so he doesn’t deserve his own name. Come play with us.”

“You boys shouldn’t stay cooped up with us old folks all night,” Lolo agreed. “Go play your computer games.”

“Video games,” Fritz corrected.

“I know. But they all rot your brains so your fancy new computer games don’t deserve their own name either.”

Fritz stuck out his tongue and was quickly chided for it by Mom.

“Come on, we just made a bunch of new levels.” Fritz gave up on tugging on Eugene and switched targets. Junior and Marcus hung on the precipice of sitting room and kitchen, watching curiously. There was no question who their real target had been all along. “You’ve _got_ to try Justice Sponge!”

Jesse looked to Eugene. Eugene knew exactly what that look wanted but Fritz latched onto Jesse’s arm and was more successful in tugging Jesse along by it than he’d been with Eugene’s arm. The adults laughed and Eugene followed after his little brother, absconding with his soulmate.

“You’re bad at this game,” Marcus said when Jesse was first to die.

“I don’t see that anyone can be _good_ at it when the level doesn’t ever stop spinning.”

“The Justice Sponge judged you unworthy,” Junior cackled. Then ate his words as he was found unworthy too. He wasn’t overly concerned with his loss, dropping his controller in his lap and twisting to look up at the couch where Jesse sat. “So are you some sort of modern-day prince?”

“Am I what?” Jesse asked.

“You’ve gotta be rich to drive a car like that.”

“Marcus, it’s not polite to ask about other people’s financial situation,” Luna said, voice pitched so exactly to match Mom’s that Marcus looked around guiltily until he noticed the smug amusement on Luna’s face. “Anyway,” she continued in her normal drawl. “He’s some big deal in the fencing world. His dad was an Olympian and he’s like super loaded now. He’s not a prince.”

“I said _modern-day_ prince and it sounds like I was right.”

“You looked him up?” Marcus asked.

“You didn’t?” Luna countered, her tone condemning her little brothers all as idiots for not doing proper research. Eugene snuck a glance at Jesse and found him with mouth hung open like a fish. Maybe Eugene should have warned him about the siblings. But Eugene wasn’t really the one that had invited him so he hadn’t even thought to prep him. “Eugene’s got a _soulmate,_ I was googling on the way home from that match last week.”

“Not everyone is as nosy as you are,” Marcus shot back.

“As if you lot didn’t lure him here to interrogate him,” Luna scoffed.

Finally, Jesse cleared his throat.

_“He_ is right here and he’s got ears. And a name.”

“Jesse,” Fritz said with a nod, like it was at all impressive to know the name of Eugene’s soulmate. But then Eugene realized the name wasn’t a statement but part of a question. “Are you in love with Eugene?”

“Bet he regrets coming to your party now,” Junior whispered to Eugene as they all watched Jesse flounder.

“I’ve only known him for a week,” Jesse settled on after several false starts.

“Mom says that soulmates usually mean being in love,” Fritz persisted. He must have gotten a fuller explanation of soulmates after actually witnessing the start of a bind at Eugene’s match with Jesse. But Fritz was endlessly curious. And blunt.

“Love doesn’t just happen overnight,” Eugene swept in, deciding to spare Jesse from coming up with another answer. Eugene lowered his controller, finally falling off the level, his lives all spent.

“Then what’s the point?” Fritz asked, not clicking past his stats, trapping them all on the screen with his character in first place and the rest of their’s clapping him on.

“The point of soulmates?” Eugene asked for clarification and Fritz nodded. “‘Lil dude, that’s like asking what the meaning of life is. Soulmates don’t have a point. It’s just…built-in love. Kinda like family.”

“But Jesse said he doesn’t love you.”

Eugene got the idea that Jesse thought he was corrupting Eugene’s little brother by disillusioning him of the notion of love at first sight, even between soulmates.

“I said I don’t love him _yet,”_ Jesse said, like he wanted to erase the curious crease between Fritz’s eyebrows. “But I will. Love him.”

Jesse had everyone’s attention now, and his reddened face said that he knew it. Junior _oooooh_ ’d like Jesse had just said something scandalous, and Luna scoffed, rolling her eyes. Jesse didn’t look at either of them. Or at Eugene. But Jesse’s body was stiff and uncomfortable where it pressed up against him, betraying his awareness of Eugene as he talked about loving him.

“Even if I don’t fall _in_ love with Eugene,” Jesse continued valiantly, speaking directly and only to Fritz, “I’ll still love him. That’s what soulmates are. Built-in love, but there’s still some assembly required.”

“Like Legos,” Fritz decided.

“Like Legos,” Jesse agreed, relieved to have made it through. It was sweet of Jesse to be so concerned about Fritz at all.

Eugene’s hand suddenly felt very empty.

“Or Ikea furniture,” Marcus added.

“Or robots,” Junior suggested.

“You guys are all so fake deep,” Luna complained. “Shut up and get back to your game.”

They did get back to their game but there wasn’t ever any hope of them shutting up. Jesse was bombarded with tons more questions but he handled them all gratefully after Fritz’s first one. Compared to that, these were easy. Eventually, Marcus made him go into specifics about his car and Jesse was dorkily enthusiastic to comply.

When Mom called them all for dinner, Eugene stayed to wind up the cords to the old GameCube controllers and put the Switch ones away. Jesse lingered with him.

“Dinner already?” He asked quietly. “Isn’t anyone else coming?”

“What? Like friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah. It’s just a family celebration.”

“I didn’t realize…” Jesse sounded ill at ease. When Eugene shot him a questioning look, Jesse continued. “Is it alright for me to be here? If this is a family event, maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“Too late to be worrying about that,” Eugene snorted. That didn’t make Jesse look any less troubled. “You’re fine to be here. Mom invited you. And you’re my soulmate. You’ll be as good as family after we finish with the assembly, right?”

Jesse nodded but he still looked unsure. Eugene offered his hand and took Jesse to the table. Jesse’s troubled expression fell away when he was folded warmly into conversation. The Labaos were nothing if not a friendly and welcoming bunch.

Dinner was great—Eugene’s favorite. Jesse even recognized it; he was way too proud about it as he told Eugene’s mom that her arroz caldo was the best he’d ever had. Cake was good too, but with ten people, it went fast. It might not have gone so fast if Eugene’s brothers weren’t ill-mannered bottomless pits, but they were. Jesse was far more refined.

“Have some more.” Eugene quietly held a bite of his cake to Jesse’s mouth while the chaos of dessert raged on around them. He’d noticed that Jesse had gone through his quickly. It seemed he wasn’t picky about his sweets.

“That’s alright,” Jesse tried to say. “Don’t you like your cake?”

“I love my birthday cake, but it’s mine and I can do what I want with it. And I want to share it with you.”

Jesse looked at the fork, then at Eugene, then around the table to make sure no one was watching. No one was, not obviously. So Jesse ate the offered piece of cake and let Eugene hoist the rest of his plate on him too. Luna caught his eye and made a gagging expression at him. He crossed his eyes at her.

After cake, it was properly time to open presents. It was a good haul, but if Eugene was being honest, Jesse’s remained his favorite.

It was late by the time Jesse said he’d better get going. Mom insisted he should come visit again soon, and everyone else gave goodbyes as friendly as their welcomes. Eugene walked Jesse out to his car, the night feeling quiet and private after the bubbling warmth of his house.

“So,” Eugene said, hands in his pockets. Jesse faced Eugene, didn’t open his car. “Thanks for the present. I’ve lost two shirts to you but I still came out ahead.”

“I only remember cutting you out of one shirt,” Jesse said, golden eyebrows pulling low over blue eyes.

“And do you remember wearing the shirt I cut off of _you_ back to Exton?”

Jesse’s eyes went wide.

“Shit, I forgot,” he said. “I’ll return your shirt, I just don’t have it with me tonight.”

“No,” Eugene said. “Keep it. You look sweet in it.”

“I do not look _sweet,”_ Jesse fussed.

“You do too. Sometimes.”

“I’m not sweet, I’m—,”

“A pain in the ass?” Eugene laughed. “You just insulted yourself, you realize that, don’t you?”

Jesse hadn’t. It was evident by the way he frowned after a pause that must have been used to go back over his words.

“I wish you wouldn’t say I look sweet,” he restated, petulant.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like being made fun of.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Eugene said. He thought Jesse was being ridiculous, but he made sure to issue the assurance without an ounce of levity. “I think you look sweet in my shirt. I’d like to see you in it again. So you should keep it.”

Jesse’s blush was delayed but brilliant. After all the blushing Jesse had done tonight, Eugene was amazed he had any left in him.

“You said that about your blanket, too,” Jesse said.

“You can’t have my favorite blanket. But you can use it when you visit me at Kings Row.”

“So you’re inviting me to visit you?”

“Yeah, guess I am. Actually, let me grab your number before you leave. It’d be dumb if I made that mistake twice.”

They traded numbers but Jesse didn’t turn to get in his car and Eugene didn’t turn to head back to the house.

“You never said you were glad I came,” Jesse said quietly. Eugene laughed, which made Jesse scowl and cross his arms.

“I am,” Eugene said. He was sure that every single one of his siblings was peeking through the blinds but he stepped up to Jesse anyway and settled a hand into soft hair. “I’m really glad you came.”

Jesse was as easy to kiss as Eugene had suspected he would be. His mouth was soft and unsure but not of Eugene—unsure of this touch he couldn’t have had any experience with. It was sweet, this kiss. But Eugene didn’t say so when he pulled away after the brief contact.

“I didn’t get the chance to say earlier,” Jesse said, fingers curling into Eugene’s shirt before he could step out of range. “But I’d like this to be a relationship.”

“It’s cute that you think I don’t notice how you waited to say so until you knew I’d say I want that too.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Did you know,” Eugene said, phone crammed between his shoulder and ear as he pulled on clothes for the day. It wasn’t necessarily comfortable or efficient to start his mornings with this phone call but Jesse always called and Eugene always answered. His actual alarm was redundant at this point. “It was Fritz, the little traitor, that passed judgment on us at my birthday party.”

“How do you mean?” Jesse asked.

Eugene had to admit that it was nice to hear Jesse’s voice. He hadn’t been able to see his soulmate—his boyfriend—since the party nearly two weeks ago. And it was only bound to be like this and worse for the foreseeable future. Their different schools and fencing schedules made dates tricky, and next year would bring college for Eugene.

So he always picked up when Jesse called.

“I mean that when I came back inside from saying bye to you, Fritz said that I’ve always been great at Legos.” Eugene paused. “And he’s right, I am a Lego master.”

“Wait,” Jesse said carefully, like his care might change Eugene’s reply. “You mean he—he _saw?_ When you…” Jesse cleared his throat then said in a rush, “when you kissed me?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Eugene confirmed brightly. “Him and Junior and Marcus and Luna. Lolo won’t admit to snooping, but he winked at me so I’m sure he was watching too.”

“But! Then why did you—I can’t believe—that’s not very—!” Jesse spluttered.

“Sorry,” Eugene said, his shrug pressing his phone even more solidly to his ear. “But I wanted to kiss you. And I didn’t see that I’d get another chance any time soon.”

“Hmm,” Jesse hummed. But it was a pleased hum, not a dubious or irritated one. Eugene had learned all of Jesse’s moods well, even just from the sounds he made over the phone, how long he took to respond, the enunciation of his words. Jesse called a lot. And Eugene always picked up.

“Speaking of kissing you,” Eugene plowed ahead, “are you free this weekend? Shit, wait, never mind. You’ve got your match against Clonard this Saturday.”

“I do…” Jesse agreed.

“But?”

“But I’ll have my car, my coach is letting me drive there because I’ve got the ACT in the morning beforehand.”

“Sounds like a hell of a day.”

“Not really, I’ll ace the test and win the match.”

“Sure you will, but that’s still a long day.”

“Which is why my coach will understand why I decided to spend the night at home after returning my car. To be honest, I haven’t really been looking forward to a three-hour test with only an hour to spare before a match…but now I can ace the test, win the match, and then come visit you.”

“And,” Eugene said importantly, “get lots of kisses.”

* * *

Jesse wasn’t at all discreet. When he summoned Eugene to escort him back up to his room Saturday evening, Jesse made no effort to hasten his pace or try to blend in. He marched through the halls like he belonged in them. Eugene was just glad their dorm advisor wasn’t strict and the guys in his dorm were unlikely to cause a fuss at Eugene bringing someone in for the night.

“So tell me,” Eugene said as he closed his dorm room behind them. “Am I expected to sleep on the floor tonight?”

“Don’t be stupid. And I thought you’d learned your lesson with me and locks.”

“I have. I just wanted to see if you’d mention it.”

Eugene flipped the lock and stepped out of his sneakers. Jesse sat on the bed to take off his Oxfords. Eugene sat next to him, leaning heavily on an arm that dipped behind Jesse’s back. Jesse pretended not to notice the proximity but he was shit at it. He was too obvious in the way he carefully avoided looking at Eugene and went on mechanically untying his shoes.

“Just to be clear, I’m allowed on my bed?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good news. I guess the next question is what new trials and tribulations do you have in store for me now that we’re properly dating?”

“What are you talking about?” Jesse looked at him mistrustfully, finished with his shoes and with trying to ignore Eugene.

“I mean it was nonstop with you last time you were here. Are you going to be that difficult this time?”

Jesse appeared ready to defend himself but then he closed his mouth and tilted his head, considering Eugene.

“Do you want me to be?” Good question. It put all the danger on Eugene. He wondered what, in Jesse’s estimation, the right answer was. “Should I be difficult or sweet?”

“I don’t think I really get a choice in that, do I? I think you’re both. Difficult _and_ sweet.”

“Then I shouldn’t worry about it. I’m obviously your type either way.”

“My type,” Eugene repeated with a chuckle. He’d never had a super specific type before, but Jesse had to be right. Wasn’t your soulmate the definition of _your type?_ “I’ve got strange taste.”

Jesse shot off Eugene’s bed to glare down at him and then stomp off to pretend like he’d gotten up to take off his sweater and drape it over the chair, not because he was throwing a fit. Eugene didn’t move to follow him, but he watched with lazy interest as Jesse pulled off his sweater, white skin revealing itself as shirt got pulled along with the outer layer.

Jesse had back dimples. Eugene had noticed them as an afterthought during their bind but he saw them again now, peeking temptingly out from under the displaced fabric. Eugene thought they were cute and wanted badly to kiss them even as he watched them disappear back under the shirt. A shirt that seemed a little stretched and loose on Jesse’s strong but slim figure. When he turned around again, Eugene recognized the tee.

There was no way it was an accident that Jesse had shown up tonight wearing it.

It was impossible now for Eugene to remain sitting and watching. He stood and prowled toward Jesse, catching him by his perfectly tapered waist. Jesse let himself be pulled to Eugene but made no move to return the hold.

“I’ve got strange taste,” Eugene reiterated. “But I’ve also clearly got the best taste of anyone I know.”

“That’s more like it,” Jesse smiled, circling his arms around Eugene’s neck and falling into him open-mouthed.

Eugene took his time kissing Jesse now. He had his own room and a locked door and nothing at all to stop him from taking exactly what he wanted. Jesse really was difficult—as difficult as he was pretty and sweet and cool. But maybe Eugene really didn’t mind any of it because it hadn’t taken him long at all to acclimatize to his soulmate, to learn to want him. Now, Jesse’s hands fumbled in his hair and Jesse’s little moans filled his ears and Eugene just wanted more.

Deftly, Eugene worked hands up Jesse’s shirt—Eugene’s shirt, which looked so damn good on Jesse—and found those adorable back dimples with his fingers, then ran his hands up the length of Jesse’s back, his sides, his chest. Jesse shuddered and stumbled harder against Eugene.

Eugene had to remind himself that this was Jesse’s first time kissing like this.

_Maybe I should take it easy_ , a sensible corner of his brain suggested, but the warmth of Jesse’s skin and the reactions he gave as Eugene’s hands roamed were too good to pass up. He did, however, shelve ideas about dragging his mouth across Jesse’s chest with its pink nipples and against his back with those darling dimples for later.

“Should I be worried,” Jesse asked as Eugene’s hands traced the outline of his shoulder blades, hiking his shirt up high, “about you ripping off my clothes again?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Eugene warned, finding Jesse’s waist again. He wondered if soulmates really were made for each other, in a literal sense. Maybe that was why his hands fit so perfectly here. “I like this shirt, it would be a shame to ruin it.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to wear something replaceable,” Jesse promised. Eugene couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “For now, I believe I was promised lots of kisses.”

Eugene could point out that Jesse was the one that had interrupted those kisses. Or he could skip over that and kiss Jesse.

Eugene kissed Jesse, came in with a whole avalanche of them, just to be sure Jesse got what he’d paid for. Jesse laughed under the attack and grappled in Eugene’s hair, trying to keep him in place, trying to kiss him properly. Eventually, Eugene let his efforts succeed, settling back down into longer kisses, deeper kisses.

Jesse was insistent and graceless, mashing his mouth into Eugene’s without any kind of plan. Eugene thought it was sweet. And difficult, too, since he had to constantly ward Jesse off and rearrange them to get an angle that was at all productive for kissing. New to kissing or not, Jesse wasn’t shy about it, didn’t hold back from letting it be known what he liked and what he wanted. So Eugene had some fun teasing Jesse’s lip and kissing deep into his mouth, let his hands roam a little more daringly. Maybe he could get away with pressing his mouth to the places his fingers were exploring even sooner than he’d thought…

Jesse silently asked to come up for air and Eugene let him, enjoying the sound of his ragged breathing almost as much as the moans. When Jesse nestled his head against Eugene’s shoulder and gripped him tightly, it was pure instinct to reciprocate the hug and hold Jesse tight right back. They stayed that way until Jesse regained his breath, Eugene’s arm holding him securely but still ducked up under his shirt to press against the thrum of his skin, into the dimples on his back.

“You really do give the best hugs.”

“Do I?”

“Mhmm.”

“That’s good, then, because I’m a hugger. And,” Eugene admitted, “I especially like holding you.”

* * *

“What time do you need to be back at school tomorrow?” Eugene asked.

He had to wait for Jesse to finish spitting before he got an answer. Jesse dabbed at his mouth with a washcloth and returned his toothbrush to the holder on Eugene’s sink. Was it strange that Jesse already had a toothbrush here? It didn’t feel strange. He’d left the spare toothbrush Eugene had given him here after his unwilling stay in Eugene’s dorm room the last time. And some part of Eugene had known better than to throw it out.

“I haven’t got any obligations tomorrow,” Jesse said, frowning at his reflection in the mirror and fluffing his hair. Eugene had managed to make a mess of it.

“Me either. I won’t bother with an alarm.”

Jesse hummed his approval of the idea and Eugene left him to fuss with his hair—after a quick kiss to his neck as he slid behind him to get to the door—and went to change into sweats. Jesse came out of the bathroom as Eugene was unplugging his digital clock. He earned a kiss for it when he straightened back up after retrieving the cord from the socket.

“I’m going to get the light.” Then Eugene frowned at Jesse. “Are you wearing those to bed?” He nodded to the light blue jeans that fit Jesse beautifully but probably wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in.

“I forgot to bring pajamas.”

“Forgot to bring pajamas? But you thought to bring toothpaste?”

“To leave here, yes. I told you, the mint ones burn my mouth.”

“But you forgot your pajamas.”

“Yes.”

“Your mind,” Eugene marveled, shaking his head at Jesse. “Well, you know where everything is,” he said in way of offering Jesse something to wear. If Jesse had told him sooner that he’d neglected to pack jammies, Eugene would have saved the yellow sweats he was wearing now for Jesse.

“That’s alright,” Jesse said nonchalantly.

Eugene’s hand hovered over the light switch, but he couldn’t resist one last scrutinizing look over at his boyfriend before letting the room fall dark. But the scrutiny was soon forgotten.

Jesse was stepping out of his pants. Then he was out of them and folding them loosely. He dropped the jeans on top of his bag before crawling into Eugene’s bed, bare legs and moose-patterned underwear disappearing under the covers. But that didn’t make Jesse’s legs any less bare or his boxer briefs any less exposed, not really. Partly because Eugene had already seen them. But especially because Eugene would be tucked under those blankets same as Jesse in no time at all.

“What?” Jesse asked, brazen and off-handed. But that cover wasn’t any more convincing than hiding under the bed’s covers had been.

“Last time you were here,” Eugene said, “I remember getting in trouble for sneaking a peek at your ass while you changed and now you’ve crawled into my bed without any pants. It’s a pretty drastic change.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all. Surprised, but not complaining.”

Eugene finally pulled his eyes off of Jesse long enough to turn off the lights. He padded over to the bed and paused, looking down into it through the dark. In another second, he decided to tug his shirt off over his head and toss it on the back of his desk chair with Jesse’s sweater before lifting the blankets.

“What are you—?” Jesse asked, the whites of his eyes visible in the dim light from opening so wide. Eugene flashed white teeth in response, grinning wider.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” he said, slumping down in the bed facing Jesse, left hand finding Jesse’s leg and slipping up it, over hip bone, and up to his waist. “Having you in my bed half-naked when I’m fully clothed. I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

And Eugene hooked Jesse to him, pulling him down and locking him to him. Jesse notched against his body perfectly.

“Oh,” Jesse said, wriggling and shifting until he was sufficiently settled against Eugene. Back now pressing into Eugene’s chest, Jesse spoke over his shoulder, “That’s very chivalrous of you.”

Eugene kissed Jesse’s neck again, right on the edge of his soft hair.

“I needed to repay you for your kindness, letting me spend the night with you instead of on the floor.”

“Will you get over that?”

“Never. I don’t think I’ve met anyone else with your level of audacity, Jess. Demanding I sleep on the floor of my own room. You can’t make that shit up.”

“I had perfectly good reasons for that request.”

“Not wanting to share a bed with a near-perfect stranger you don’t like is generally a good way of life. But I feel like there were exceptional circumstances in our case,” Eugene murmured, nestling against Jesse’s neck so he’d know this was only some light teasing. What was really exceptional was how natural it felt to touch Jesse like this already.

“That’s not it. You were a near-perfect stranger that I was _starting_ to like. And the idea of sharing a bed with you terrified me. I didn’t feel prepared to deal with it.”

“No shit?” Eugene asked, raising his torso and craning his neck to look over at Jesse’s face.

Jesse turned his head to look up at Eugene. He nodded once and Eugene believed him. It made sense now that it was settling in with the memories of their bind. Like Jesse’s decision that their lunch was a date. Or his constant nerves that Eugene had mistaken as more of his nonsense. But Jesse Coste was _full_ of nonsense. And Eugene hadn’t known well enough then to decipher what sort of nonsense was happening under all that blond hair.

“I told you,” Jesse said, but Eugene delayed the thought with a kiss, as long as he could manage from this vantage. Jesse’s mouth tasted like his dumb toothpaste. After Eugene gave Jesse back possession of his tongue and collapsed back onto their pillow, Jesse said again, “I told you. You just bully people into liking you.”

“I’m impressed I was able to bully you into liking me so fast. I could’ve sworn it would take us months to get along at all.”

“I’m glad it didn’t.”

“Me too. I’m looking forward to falling in love with you.”

“Don’t say it like you haven’t already started.”

“I wasn’t.”

Jesse yawned, but Eugene was sure he heard _me too_ through it. Then the room was taken by a heavy sleepiness and neither of them felt the need to say anything more than what they already had, leaving Eugene to drowsy thoughts on his way to sleep. Jesse yawned again, a sound more like a sigh than a yawn, then pressed himself farther into the curve of Eugene’s body. Eugene felt like Jesse was pressing himself farther into his heart.

Eugene hadn’t cared about soulmates before Jesse. He might have if he’d realized soulmates meant _this._ This feeling of peace and rightness. But you couldn’t recognize what you were missing before you’d had it so Eugene hadn’t been too concerned with it. But he’d held Jesse’s soul and Jesse had held his and maybe they were still holding each other on some level because of it. And now he couldn’t ever stop being concerned with soulmates. With _his_ soulmate, specifically.

Eugene had worried after their bind had run its course that the strange and intimate process had left some part of him doomed to always be wanting more, to crave whatever went on during the bind again. That level of closeness couldn’t be replicated. That’s what he’d thought. But he wasn’t sure now. After kissing Jesse barefoot on the familiar pavement of his driveway, the melancholy had lifted. Having his number, having _him_ , even when they were physically apart felt like they were connected. Committed to each other. That was plenty close enough.

Jesse’s arm shifted on top of his body, bending up to slip his left hand under Eugene’s. Eugene’s fingers slid between his gratefully. Fingers woven together, Jesse pulled Eugene’s arm tighter around him. Eugene was on the brink of sleep and his arm was heavy around Jesse, his thumb rubbing lightly against Jesse’s until he drifted off entirely.

Maybe it was the nature of the bond, the way the place of first contact always seemed eager to connect again. Eugene’s hand always sought out Jesse’s, always felt better—more right—holding it.

Or maybe it was just Eugene that felt better with Jesse’s hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayy here we are at the end of yet another fic! I know I have the dumbest fixations over soulmate aus instead of just being fucking normal and writing one of the classics but my brain does what it wants (especially when it thinks something is funny) and i can't stop it, so thank you all for reading this anyway!!! you guys are the real mvps! and shout out to my sister for accidentally and unwittingly naming this fic, she's a real mvp too
> 
> I love you all to bits, thanks again for everything!! 💜💜💜


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